Just Across the Hall
by darlin-deveroux
Summary: AU. Santana and Puck are embarking on the next chapter of their lives, starting their ascent into adulthood by moving to New York. While they both expected to struggle with shitty jobs, crappy food, and making rent, neither expected to fall for the same girl who lives just across the hall. Eventual Quinntana with brief Quick. Pucktana friendship.
1. Chapter 1

AU. Santana and Puck are embarking on the next chapter of their lives, starting their ascent into adulthood by moving to New York. While they both expected to struggle with shitty jobs, crappy food, and making rent, neither expected to fall for the same girl who lives just across the hall.

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><p><em>Don't look back,<em>

_All you'll ever get is the dust from the steps before._

_- _She & Him

* * *

><p>"Seriously, San, how many <em>fucking<em> pairs of shoes do you have in here?"

"Seriously, Puck, how many _fucking_ times are you gonna complain about it?"

Puck grumbled to himself as he readjusted his grip on the box, pushing it up and into his chest before taking a deep breath and making his way up the last flight of stairs.

"Remind me again why I got stuck carrying all the heavy crap up to the apartment?" he asked as they finally reached their door, Santana setting down the garbage bag of sheets and purple lamp she'd been carrying as she sighed. "I mean, correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure these aren't _my_ shoes."

"They're not, but correct me if I'm wrong about you sleeping the entire way here and puking up your Captain D's in _my_ purse?" Santana responded, Puck pursing his lips and thinking his answer over before nodding.

"Right," Puck agreed before wiping a few beads of sweat from his forehead onto the corner of the box, Santana crinkling her nose and smiling smugly as she jangled her keys. "Though we did drive _my_ truck."

"Um, I believe_ I_ drove your truck," Santana corrected as Puck rolled his eyes, "and paid for gas, and the food, and the U-Haul-"

"Which is filled with all _your_ stuff!" Puck interjected.

"Because you're an imbecile who doesn't know how to pack," Santana shot back as she ignored him, flicking through her keys and shaking her head.

"I told you, I travel light," Puck defended as Santana found the apartment key, sliding it into the lock and pretending to listen as she unlocked the door. "I'm a simple man."

"You didn't bring any underwear, Puck," Santana snapped.

"I don't wear underwear, Santana," Puck fired back, the brunette rolling her eyes as she pulled the key from the lock.

"You're still an imbecile, a gross, commando going imbecile," Santana said quickly as she picked up her bag and lamp again, pushing the door open with her knee as they headed inside.

"Suck me, Blopez."

"Eat me, Fuckerman."

Santana flicked the kitchen light on with her elbow as she walked towards the counter, setting the garbage bag and lamp down before scanning her eyes around their new apartment.

Upon first walking in, a small hallway led straight into the kitchen that was now filled with permanently marked brown boxes of mismatched dishes and cups. Random electronics like a barely working microwave and beat up yellow blender rested on the small counter, with a tiny "breakfast nook", a.k.a a 2 by 2 space that her kitchen table barely fit in, dead ending the kitchen. To the right of the kitchen was the living room that was connected, the open floor plan feeling less than open as old cheerleading gym bags overstuffed with clothes lined the brick walls. Santana had been less than thrilled with the living room's cold feel and brick work, but the huge window that gave her a view of the city had made up for it, the view now obscured by a bookcase and randomly stacked end tables. A faux fire place rested as the main center piece of the living room, suitcases and garbage bags of towels resting in front of it. To the right of the fireplace was a cramped hallway that led to the bedroom, which was on the left, and the bathroom, which was on the right.

While the apartment hadn't been ideal, it had fit the bill, Santana eagerly slamming down the deposit and first months rent on the spot. Her dream after graduating from college had been to move to New York and she had been determined to make it happen, shitty apartment that wiped out her graduation savings and was overpriced or not.

She had made a trip up to New York the weekend after she graduated, looking for a place to stay and a job. Her parents hadn't been thrilled with the plan but had also realized that Santana was now an adult in charge of calling her own shots, her mom giving her a peck on the forehead and her dad slipping an extra $50 in her hand. While she had managed to find the apartment, the job front hadn't been as fruitful, the only places currently hiring being diners and convenient stores. While Santana had a business degree under her belt, every position she inquired about required at least a Masters, the entire job search becoming tedious and exhausting. She'd decided to tell her parents she'd found one to put their mind at ease and go through with the move anyway, willing to apply at a diner if no other positions opened up by the time she moved.

She spent the summer following her graduation saving up, working two jobs on campus as a tour guide for new freshman and a secretary for the counseling center. The way she budgeted it she still had enough saved up to last her for next month's rent and food, hopefully having enough to tide her over until a job fell into place. The plan had never included Puck originally, her ex-boyfriend now turned best friend, in the beginning, but after he agreed to pay half the rent and make do on a pull out couch, Santana agreed. Help with the rent was nice, and the money she had saved would last her longer now, plus having a friend in a new city would be comforting.

"It's fucking sweltering in here," Puck groaned as he set down the box on his sofa, that, along with a duffel bag, being the only items he had thrown into the U-Haul Santana had rented.

"_Sweltering_?" Santana repeated back as she raised her brows, Puck shrugging with a smug smile. "Look at you using the World Wide Web."

"You know, we're in New York now, gotta up my game to impress the ladies." Santana rolled her eyes as she turned her back to Puck, her eyes roaming the apartment as she tried to decide where to begin.

"Well you have fun with that, let me know how Chlamydia works for ya," Santana smiled as she headed into the kitchen, Puck sucking his teeth as he waved a hand.

"Please, this is New York, the women here are classy and shit."

"Classy and shit," Santana repeated as she grabbed a box of dishes. "Wow, they're gonna be fighting to get a hold of you." Puck rattled off some insult before grabbing a box and beginning to unpack it, the two of them trading insults back and forth as they began to set up their new lives.

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><p>2 hours and 1 pizza later, the two of them had managed to somewhat organize the kitchen, Santana having to go back behind Puck to organize the pots and pans he insisted on chunking in the cabinets. They managed to fit the small kitchen table in the breakfast nook but the kitchen chairs weren't going to fit, the faded chairs now resting at the table as they stuck out of the breakfast nook. The appliances were set up and the 2 roommates had cleaned up the fridge, now moving on to washing their plates, cups, and utensils.<p>

"I think there's a few basic codes we need to talk about," Puck spoke up as he shoved a sponge into a red plastic cup, Santana shifting her focus from the plate she was rinsing to him as she raised her brows.

"Oh?" she said with surprise as she set the plate down in the drying rack. "Like?"

"Like, you know, just basic roommate code," Puck continued as he handed the cup over to Santana, grabbing another and dunking it in the soapy water as he cleared his throat. "Ground rules."

"I can't wait to hear this," Santana mumbled under her breath, ignoring Puck's glare as she took the cup from him.

"Like, ok, we already have the financial aspects covered, getting jobs by the end of the week no matter how shitty, splitting the rent and other bills, paying for our own food, yada, yada," Puck rattled off, Santana nodding in agreeance as she scrubbed at a spot Puck had missed. "But I'm talking more…living stuff."

"As in…" Santana trailed off, shifting her eyes towards Puck as he spoke.

"As in…ok, let's say, you know, I wanna bring a chick over, or like you wanna bring a chick over," he began, Santana snorting as she shook her head.

"Of all the things we should have rules for Puck and this is where you wanna start?" she asked, Puck scoffing as he threw a spoon at her.

"What? This is important stuff!" Puck defended, Santana's expression remaining as he huffed. "Fine, fine, what rules do you wanna make, let's do yours first."

"Ok," Santana thought as she licked her lips. "Chores. Like dishes. You use a cup or bowl, you're in charge of washing it."

"Fair enough," Puck agreed. "That makes sense."

"And no leaving dishes in the sink for longer than 24 hours. If you're in a hurry to eat cereal before work, I get it, but you need to have it cleaned up before you go to bed."

"But what if I'm out with a girl and we go back to her place to hook up?" Puck asked, Santana shooting him an aggravated glare. "Got it, I'll swing buy, pick up my shit, fuck her after, cool." Santana chose to ignore Puck as she went on, rubbing her pruning fingers together as she spoke.

"Same goes for laundry, you're in charge of your own clothes. No leaving them on the floor."

"Where am I supposed to put mine though, you're the one with the room," Puck pointed out.

"And you're the one who insisted on 'traveling light'," Santana mocked as she made air quotes with her soapy fingers. "The one who decided not to bring a dresser." At this Puck became flustered, his lips moving but nothing coming out.

"Just-whatever, I'll put them in the drawers of the bookshelf or something."

"I don't care where the hell you put them, just don't let me find them on the floor," Santana finished, a pause falling between them before Puck spoke up.

"Anything else?" Santana chewed her bottom lip as she thought, running her fingertips over a fork before speaking again.

"Other chores like sweeping, vacuuming, all that, we can take turns and rotate weekly or something. You know, maybe I'm in charge of sweeping and vacuuming one week while you pick up the bathroom, then we switch."

"I'm game, but can you do it when you, you know, have your feminine shit happening?" Puck asked as his voice went an octave higher, Santana dropping her hands into the sink and splashing water everywhere as Puck put his in the air. "Look no offense, but I don't wanna live out that scene from _The Shining_ when I go to the bathroom."

"You're a moron," Santana snapped as she furrowed her brow, Puck waving his hands around and sending bubbles across the counter.

"What! That's totally fair!" he defended.

"Fine," Santana snapped. "Then I don't wanna see dirty socks filled with your swimmers in the living room."

"It's where I sleep!" Puck protested, Santana shooting him an uninterested look as he sighed. "Well, that's actually what I wanted to talk about. Sex. I plan on having an abundance of it."

"God, do you have a weekly word app?" Santana mumbled, Puck ignoring her as he went on.

"And since I'm sleeping on the couch, I'm gonna be having sex there."

"Sure, sure you are," Santana agreed sarcastically.

"I'm serious San, I wanna be able to bring girls back here and like, fuck and stuff. And I don't wanna be judged for it or yelled at."

"Ok, yeah," Santana nodded, Puck becoming frustrated at her lack of commitment to the conversation.

"Fine, then I'll just fuck 'em in your bed."

"Grea-wait, what?" Puck nodded as he flashed a tight smile, Santana getting the point and shaking the hair from her face as she sighed. "Ok, fine, yes, you sleep on the couch, so when you wanna…uh-"

"Fuck," Puck chimed in as he completed her thought, Santana glowering as he motioned for her to continue.

"Fuck," she said firmly. "Then you'll do it there. The couch, I guess," she repeated, holding up a firm finger. "The couch. Never my bed, never. I guess I'll just sit...on a counter stool to watch TV from now on."

"Good. Done." Puck confirmed, holding up a wet, soapy hand as they shook in agreeance.

"Can you at least give me a heads up so I don't walk in on your escapades?" Santana asked, submerging her hands back into the water as she tried to retrieve the fork she'd been cleaning.

"Sure, I'll shoot you a text."

"All I ask-"

"Or leave a sock on the door," Puck smirked, enjoying his remark much more than Santana, the brunette flicking soap at him as he squealed. "Hey!" He fired back with a handful of bubbles, Santana's recently straightened hair now flecked with soap.

"Asshole!" she shouted, slapping her hand into the sink and sending a splash of water onto Puck's shirt and pants.

"Bitch!" he yelled, fighting back a laugh as he wrapped one hand around Santana's waist and used the other to grab a wet rag.

"Puck, stop! Puck I just did my hair, no!" Santana cried out, Puck lifting her off the tiled floor as he squeezed the water from the rag above her head.

"Nah, nah, this is what you get," Puck smiled gleefully as the gray water ran down Santana's hair and face.

"Puck!"

"Excuse me?" Puck whirled around, Santana still in hand, at the sound of the small voice, both roommates faces sharing the same look of confusion. "I'm sorry, I just-your door was opened and I wanted to introduce myself. I knocked but I heard…" The blonde in front of them trailed off as her red lips moved but no sound was released, Santana quickly removing herself from Puck's grip as she tried to adjust her clothes.

"It's fine, we-sorry for the mess," Santana quickly blurted out, yanking at her shirt with one hand as she ran the other through her matted hair. "Just doing some uh, cleaning."

"No, it's fine, my bad," the blonde, who was wearing a green dress that matched her eyes, smiled. "I'm sorry to barge in I just-I made you these." She motioned to the plate of cookies covered in plastic wrap in her hand, stepping forward to hand them to Santana. "I didn't wanna just leave them outside yourdoor, it seemed weird."

"Probably about as weird as this looks," Santana joked, taking the plate and turning to see Puck's eyes had found the blonde's chest.

"I just wanted to welcome you to the building. I live just across the hall," their new neighbor pointed, turning her head back to the door as she followed her finger. "And, you know, let you know if you need anything…"

"Thanks," Santana smiled, still internally freaking out about the state of her appearance as the blonde backed up towards the door. "And again, sorry."

"No worries," the blonde smiled, waving a hand as she turned.

"Puck!" Santana and the neighbor both turned at the sudden outburst, Puck finally speaking as he snapped out of his trance. "Puck. I'm Puck, my name is Puck." He walked toward the blonde as he stuck his hand out, the blonde flashing a confused but gentle smile.

"It's nice to meet you," she offered, Puck's grin growing into a smirk as he neared her.

"Yeah," he nodded, Santana rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingers into the plate of cookies. "This is Santana, my roommate. Roommate, roommate only. Not girlfriend, not-just roommate." Santana snorted at the awkwardness of his introduction as Puck flashed her an annoyed look, the brunette trying to hide her laughter as the blonde tilted her head to meet her eyes.

"Santana, the roommate only, nice to meet you as well," she laughed politely, Santana waving a hand as she raised her brows. "Well I guess I should let you guys get back to your dishes." With that the blonde turned, Puck reluctantly releasing her hand as his eyes moved down to her backside.

"Thanks again, uh…" Santana trailed off, waving the cookies back and forth as she realized they'd yet to receive her name.

"Oh, sorry," the blonde smiled, pulling the door open as she paused. "My name's Quinn, Quinn Fabray."


	2. Chapter 2

First and foremost, big thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited! I greatly appreciate that and am so glad you're interested in this little story of mine! I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter and hope you like the second. I know things are moving slowly, but I believe in setting up a solid foundation to have the story build off of, so hang in there with me and I promise some great Quinntana.

Final side note, this story does and will continue to contain "adult" language, and future chapters will include graphic sexual content. Reader you have been warned and/or enticed.

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><p><em>So I'm writing the future,<em>

_I'm leaving a key here._

_Something won't always be missing,_

_You won't always feel empty._

- Paramore

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><p>"Holy shit."<p>

Santana looked up from the bag of shoes she was unpacking to see Puck staring at a pink and yellow cookie in his hand, mouth surrounded by crumbs that trickled down his chin and littered his shirt collar.

"I mean holy _fucking_ shit."

"Good?" Santana asked, Puck flashing her a crazy glance before nodding.

"Insanely good, like the most incredible thing I've ever tasted good. Like Amy Monahan's pussy good." He took another bite, his eyes swiveling towards the back of his skull before shaking his head. "I take it back, they're _better_ than Amy Monahan's pussy." Santana rolled her eyes as she continued to sort through her shoes, laying them out in pairs as Puck rested on her bed.

"She's pretty hot," he said casually, studying the plate of cookies next to him as he debated which one to eat next after swallowing the one in his mouth. "Might ask her out."

"Amy Monahan?" Santana asked, not completely paying attention as she tried to find the match to a wedge.

"Fuck off," Puck mumbled through a mouthful of cookie, grabbing one of Santana's pillows and tossing it at her as she laughed. "I mean Gwen."

"Who?"

"Gwen," Puck repeated, grabbing another pink and yellow cookie as he licked his lips. "You know, neighbor with the good cookies and fine ass. The Girl Scout."

"Is that what you're gonna call her when you ask her out and get rejected?" Santana asked amused, Puck shrugging as he bit into the cookie. "Besides, pretty sure that's not her name."

"Whatever, she can't reject this," he muttered between chews, Santana grimacing as crumbs sprinkled her sheets.

"Well I'm glad you're so comfortable here and are already planning your schedule. Some of us have to unpack, some of us would like to have a somewhat decent living space." Puck didn't seem to hear her as he popped in the last bite of cookie, clapping his hands together to remove any lingering crumbs before licking the tips of his fingers.

"Like I said, carry light." Santana paused as she studied the mass on her bed, Puck reaching into the plate he insisted on bringing into her room with him for yet another cookie. "This one is blue and yellow. The last one was pink and yellow and was pink lemonade. You think this one is blueberry lemonade?" With that question, Santana threw the Nike in her hand at her roommate, Puck shouting as he ducked. The shoe hit him square in his left ear before landing in his lap, Santana snorting as he waved his hand at her.

"What's your fucking problem?" he yelled, waiting another moment before turning his head to look Santana over. "You lost your goddamn mind?"

"I'm trying to get this place together and all you wanna do is sit on your ass and eat sweets," Santana explained, motioning towards Puck as he flashed a confused face. "I'm not crazy Puck, I'm irritated. First day and already you're coasting. Get up, help out."

"I just did!" Puck exclaimed, moving to stand as he wiped his shirt off. "Did I not just help do kitchen shit?"

"Yeah, cause I bribed you with pizza," Santana spat back, Puck scoffing as he crossed his arms. "I don't wanna have to bribe you every time something needs to be done."

"But why would I unpack your pants? I'm not wearing 'em or getting in 'em," he defended, Santana's eyes growing huge as she reached for another shoe. "Alright, alright! I'll go grab a box!" He headed for the door before stopping, turning back around to retrieve the plate of cookies from the bed. He made a huffing sound before closing her bedroom door behind him, Santana running her hands through her hair in exhaustion. It had only been a few hours and already she wanted to kill Puck, Santana wondering how many more hours it would be until she actually did.

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><p><em>Santana, it's your mother. Haven't heard from you since last night. You know how I worry, so call me when you get a chance. Let me know how the move went and when you start working. Your father and I love you.<em>

Santana smiled as she pulled the phone away from her ear, saving the message to her voicemail. It was only her second day of being in New York, but already Santana was feeling defeated. She'd been out all morning looking for open positions, scouring the city from tip to toe. She'd been optimistic that some of the positions she'd looked into the last time she was in town might have opened, but sadly they either weren't or had already hired someone. Not wanting to return home empty handed, she'd headed to the small diner that she'd visited last time and sure enough the faded brown and yellow 'help wanted sign' still hung, Santana swallowing her pride as she went in and applied. They'd hired her on the spot, the lady in charge handing her a 2 sizes too big mint green uniform and telling her to report back at 8:00am for opening prep.

Santana climbed the last of the stairs to her apartment, uniform in hand, scuffing her sandals against the hard wood as she ran a tired hand through her knotted hair. Her feet ached from the walking, her back tight with tension, and the rest of her drained of energy, Santana wanting nothing more than to soak in her cracked tub and pass out in her bed. "A shitty job is better than no job," she murmured, flicking through her key ring for the apartment key as she blinked her weary eyes.

"Santana, right?" The brunette looked up to see the blonde from yesterday climbing up the stairs behind her, Santana smiling as the blonde waved.

She finally had the chance to actually study her neighbor, having been too self-conscience about her own looks to focus on anything else yesterday. The girl from across the hall was about an inch or two taller with long blonde hair and side swept bangs that rested against her creamy skin, her eyes a startling green that were only outshined by her pearly smile. She had peachy cheeks and pouty lips, the way she smiled them causing her face to brighten. She was petite in shape but "hippy" as her mom called it, Santana gazing at the way the blonde's floral summer dress clung to her hips.

"Yeah, yeah," she finally nodded after a moment passed, suddenly aware at the pause as she brushed her own bangs away. "And it's…Gw-wait…"

"Quinn," the blonde corrected, Santana's cheeks flushing hot for a moment as she winced at her error and made a mental note to kill Puck. "It's fine. My introduction was badly timed."

"No, you're fine, Puck really liked those cookies you brought," Santana said politely as she tried to smooth over her previous blunder.

"Good, well I just remember when I first moved in the building, how utterly terrified I was," Quinn explained as she searched for her keys, Santana pulling her own from the lock as she twisted the knob. "Of course that was when Ned the Nudist used to live here."

"Ned the what?" Santana asked, furrowing her brow at the name as Quinn's eyes widened.

"Ned the Nudist," Quinn repeated, nodding her head and sighing as she unlocked her door. "He was this artist, always on about the human form. He owned a small gallery a few blocks away and all his pieces were his interpretations of his body. He was 64, covered in liver spots, and only ever wore this paint smeared smock that never quite covered his…human form."

"Gross!" Santana winced as she released a pained laugh, Quinn sucking through her teeth as she giggled.

"Yeah, it was a sight to see," Quinn giggled, unlocking her own door as she tossed her keys in her purse. "Luckily he moved out a few months ago and took his paintings of his reproductive system and his smock with him."

"Well," Santana spoke up as she flipped her hair away, "I promise to try to keep my smock wearing to a minimal."

"It's ok," Quinn said lightly, her eyes running up and down Santana as she smirked. "On you, I don't think I'd mind it." Santana's smile grew as Quinn waved a few fingers, pushing her door in as she headed into her apartment before closing the door behind her gently.

Santana stood reeling for a second, the brief encounter causing her to question had it actually happened. The moment only lasted another minute longer, the sound of Puck calling her from inside the apartment drawing her in.

"Hey, thought that was you," his voice echoed from down the hall, Santana moving into the kitchen as she put her purse and uniform down on the counter. "How'd it go today?"

"Well, if you mean did I get a job, I did," she answered, turning to see Puck heading down the hallway wet in only a towel. "If you mean am I happy about it, I am not." Puck nodded as he slid his mouth to the right, one hand shoving a towel in his ear to get the excess shower water out as the other motioned for Santana to bring it in for a hug.

"Jobs a job," he said nonchalantly as he wrapped Santana into a hug, his wet skin rubbing off on her dry clothes as she sighed.

"True that. What about you? Any luck?" Puck slid his arm down as Santana backed away, her roommate shrugging as he looked off.

"Got a few people who are gonna call in a few days to let me know. There's a club who needed a bouncer though, and that's the one I'm shooting for."

"Really? A bouncer?" Santana asked as she flashed a curious glance, Puck frowning as he stretched his arms out. "You?"

"What, you saying I can't do it?" he asked defensively, Santana turning away as she pursed her lips together. "Like I'm not strong enough?"

"You're the one saying it, not me," Santana pointed out, Puck giving her his middle finger before tossing the towel he'd been using on his ear at her.

"What's that?" he asked as he pointed towards the counter, Santana following his gaze to see him eyeing her uniform.

"Ah, you mean my new career outfit?" Santana answered in a fake joyous tone, picking up the uniform and showing it to Puck. "Meet the newest member of Dina's Diner."

"Dina's Diner?" Puck asked with a smirk, reaching a hand out as he took the uniform from Santana. "I didn't even know those things still existed, much less in this city."

"Oh they do," Santana nodded as she grabbed a seat on one of the bar stools, Puck holding the uniform out as he looked it over. "And you're looking at their new recruit."

"I mean it's not…that bad," Puck tried as he ran the pads of his fingers over the stitching of the diner's name.

"It's 2 sizes too big and makes me look like a jar of baby food," Santana said flatly, Puck fighting back a laugh as he tossed it back to her.

"It could always be worse," Puck said as he headed to the fridge, pulling out two beers and handing one to Santana.

"Oh yeah? How so?" she asked, uncapping her beer against the side of the counter before bringing it up to her lips and taking a long swig.

"You could be stripping out of it."

"Point taken," Santana nodded, clanking her bottle against Puck's before they both took long swigs.

* * *

><p>"…and this is where the menus go, face up, not face down. You put 'em in face down, we have a problem. Put 'em in face up, we're fine. Any questions?"<p>

Santana bit her tongue as she held back all the smart ass commentaries and questions she wanted to ask, shaking her head side to side as she tightened her lips.

"Fabulous, follow me," her guide, Glenda, replied flatly, her dry and monotone voice instructing Santana towards the entrance.

She'd been at the diner for only a little over an hour, but already Santana had plotted ten different ways to burn the place down, her best one yet relying on the deep fryer and an accidental misplacement of Glenda's hair net. It wasn't Glenda, the blue-haired elderly woman of at least 60, who was irritating her, but the whole scene in general, Santana feeling out of place amongst the senior citizens and outdated décor.

"As for now, we gotcha working as a greeter," Glenda went on, her voice reminding Santana of that slug from Monster's Inc. "The customer comes in, you welcome 'em. The customer goes out, you give 'em a goodbye. A smile and a hand wave will do it. Don't wanna come on too strong and scare 'em away, don't wanna be too brief and make 'em think ya don't care, capisce?" Santana's mouth hung open as she stared at the door, contemplating her own departure as Glenda waved a hand.

"Let's try it." Glenda waddled out the exit as Santana stood in front of the glass doors, watching Glenda turn around and slowly make her way back inside.

"Uh…good morning. Welcome to Dina's Diner," Santana got out awkwardly, Glenda flashing her a look of disapproval.

"No, more pep in ya step, less…whatever that was," Glenda muttered, waving a hand as she hauled herself back outside. Santana fought back a growl as she tapped her shoe, wanting to roll her eyes but knowing she couldn't.

Santana had gotten into college on a cheerleading scholarship, and had cheered her way to being the captain of the squad. She had more pep in her pinky than Glenda had ever had, this greeting job nothing new and nothing she couldn't do. The fact of the matter was she needed money, and like it or not this was her best way of earning it, Santana quickly sucking up her pride and clearing her throat as she placed a hand on her hip as Glenda opened the door again.

"Good morning, and welcome to Dina's Diner! Thank you for joining us on this beautiful morning!" As she spoke, she opened the door for Glenda and waved her hand to guide the way, Glenda's eyes widening as she walked in.

"Alright, much better, less like you're on the cocaine though doll and you'll have it. I'm gonna leave you to it now. Bob, the manager, he'll be over in a few to check in Santeria."

"Santana."

"Sure, ok," Glenda replied lazily, Santana forcing herself to smile as she waved goodbye to the old woman. She turned back to her spot at the door and blew a stream of air through her lips, looking at the clock to see she still had 7 more hours on her shift.

"Jobs a job," she reminded herself, smoothing out her skirt as she prepared to greet her next customer.

* * *

><p>7 hours, 4 stepped on toes, and a spilt cup of coffee later, Santana was on her way home, her feet practically dragging her along the sidewalk as she fought through the crowd. She'd been ignored, pushed, and sworn at, the customers at Dina's Diner proving that the food service industry was literally the worst.<p>

She was a block away from her apartment when her phone buzzed, sliding her hands down her apron and pulling her phone out to see Puck was calling.

"Tell me you landed the job of boy toy to some rich old hag who's only with her loaded husband for the money so that you can pump her for cash?" she answered her phone, Puck laughing on the other end as he sighed.

"Nope, even better."

"You landed the loaded husband?"

"Nope. I got the bouncer job, and we're celebrating tonight," Puck replied happily.

"Puck that's great, but I'm in no mood to go out-"

"No worries, we're gonna have a house party!" he exclaimed, Santana's last bit of energy leaving her body as she groaned.

"No way Puck, we're not having a bunch of random people in our place making a mess and leaving puke and beer bottles everywhere," Santana fought back, bumping into some stranger and receiving a nice curse. "Yeah back atcha asshole!"

"Dude!"

"Not you," Santana groaned into the phone, trying to keep her eyes ahead as she weaved between the crowds. "I mean besides, you don't even know anyone to invite to a party."

"Correction, I didn't know anyone," Puck replied happily. "But after I got the job, I hung around the club and met some of the people that worked there."

"Fantastic," Santana sighed.

"Yeah, it is, and yeah, I'm ignoring the sarcasm in your voice," Puck rambled on.

"Puck, not trying to be a dick-"

"Yeah you are."

"But we don't exactly have the kind of cash to be throwing down on a party," Santana pointed out, Puck scoffing on the other end of the line as he obviously had that covered.

"We don't, but we don't need it. See Joey, the bartender, he's gonna bring a shit ton of booze because he's been trying to woo Tinsley, one of the dancers, for like-months, only he never gets the chance at the club and they finally have the same shift off tonight, but it isn't like he could just ask her out, ya know? So my party is the perfect opportunity, and he was so grateful he's bringing all this liquor-"

"Uh huh."

"It's great."

"Sure is."

"And Katy, one of the other dancers, who is muy caliente I might add, is gonna bring her dancer friends, you're welcome…" Puck went on and on about the new people he met, Santana fighting back the tinge of jealousy as she turned the corner to their street.

"Puck that's really great, but I don't feel like cleaning up Solo cups and pizza boxes all night," Santana whined.

"No worries 'Tana, I'll help."

"Right," Santana laughed dryly. "Just like you've been helping me unpack the living room?" Puck grew silent on the other end of the phone, stumped by her statement, but choosing to ignore it at the moment as he continued to talk.

"Anyways, I've invited pretty much everyone from work-"

"Woo-hoo."

"The guys from the 3rd floor, the ones who helped us move the couch in-"

"Stellar."

"And the hot Girl Scout from across the hall." With that Santana shut up, her mouth gaping open as she paused. She recalled their previous encounter and how hot Quinn had looked teasing her about wearing a smock. She didn't know what the moment had meant, or if the blonde would even show, but right now it was the only interesting thing happening in her life, Santana smiling as she thought about where it could lead.

"Ok Fuckerman, you're on."

"And-wait, what?" Puck asked in surprise. "You're cool with this now?"

"Yeah, sure, why the hell not?" Santana tried to play off, picking up her pace as she hurried to get back to the apartment. "After the shitty day I had, I could honestly use a drink or two."

"I don't understand your sudden mood swing, but I'm totally on board with your bi-polar party mood, alright!" Puck cheered, Santana thankful for his cluelessness and now smiling as she jogged down the sidewalk.

"Look, that living room is wreck, so just shove some stuff out of the way, alright? I'm a few minutes away."

"Will do, Blopez."

"Eat me, Fuckerman."


	3. Chapter 3

Again, I am so grateful for all the wonderful reviews and feedback I've gotten, and I am more than appreciative! I know some have had a few questions, but all will be revealed soon. As for more Quinntana, I present you with this chapter! I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

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><p><em>I caught you burnin' photographs<em>

_Like that could save you from your past_

_History is like gravity_

_It holds you down away from me_

- Goo Goo Dolls

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><p>"Suck it, Evans! Yeah, tip it on back!" Puck laughed as he held his own beer up in the air, the crowded room screaming as they celebrated Puck's victorious toss that won the game of beer pong.<p>

The party had only been in full swing for half an hour but already the apartment was crammed, people filling every square inch of the living room, kitchen, and hall. There were empty Jack Daniels bottles, crushed red Solo cups, and half-drunk beer bottles covering every flat surface the apartment had, an already drained keg resting beside the fridge as it balanced greasy pizza boxes. Music pumped from the boom box that someone had placed inside the faux fireplace as a baseball game played on their small TV, one group of guys hovering around it and screaming every time a player came up to bat. Santana, who was currently sliding against the wall of her hallway as she tried to make her way to the kitchen, had long ago given up on trying to keep order, fully swearing to gnaw Puck's ass in the morning to pick the shit up as she emerged in the living room.

"Hey Tana! Over here!" Puck shouted across the room, his mouth cupped with one hand as the other waved for the brunette to come join the group he had formed atop their kitchen table. Santana nodded as she pushed by a group of guys passing a blunt between them, the smell filling her nose as she stepped over an empty Jose Cuervo bottle.

"This is my roommate I was telling you about, guys this is Santana," Puck was saying as the brunette walked up, an echo of hi's and hello's greeting her as she offered a wave. "Santana these are my new co-workers from the club. This is Sam, one of the bar tenders and loser of beer pong." A blonde haired big lipped guy in a beanie with sunglasses on stuck a hand out as he smiled, Santana shaking it as she pondered why in the hell he was wearing a beanie in late August and sunglasses inside.

"This is Darla, the other, much hotter if I do say so myself, bar tender," Puck said slyly as he flashed the blonde with the biggest boobs Santana had ever seen a slick smile.

"Oh Puck, you rascal," Double D Darla, as Santana nicknamed her in her head, cooed, the blonde swatting Puck's shoulder before letting her fingers run down his arm. _'Oh yeah, he's totally getting laid'_, Santana thought, Puck finally tearing his eyes away from Double D Darla's tits as he continued with the introductions.

"This is Mike the Asian, our VIP and lounge server," Puck went on as he patted the dark haired boy's slender back, Santana returning the hand shake as she spoke.

"I'm not calling you Mike the Asian."

"I'm not gonna fight you," he replied with a polite smile, Santana wondering if the nickname was one that had always been his or if Puck had so cleverly thought it up.

"And this is Candy. She's kind of like our hype girl," Puck finished, another blonde turning around to meet Santana.

"Santana. Like Carmen?" she asked, Santana furrowing her brow as she tried to follow. "You know, the detective."

"You mean Carmen Sandiego?" Santana corrected, the blonde's mouth opening as she nodded.

"Si." Santana contemplated hitting her but refrained, her mind racing as she tried to think of a reason to leave the powwow.

"Well it was nice to meet you all, I'm gonna get a refill." She waved her cup as she turned, once again having to fight her way through the crowd as she headed for the counter. Upon her arrival, Santana found a random redhead topless and laying spread out on her counter, 2 guys Santana had never seen taking shots from the glasses resting between her boobs.

"So that's why they're called buttery nipples!" one of the guys shouted, Santana deciding to forgo the beer as she headed for her door, wanting nothing more than room to walk and air that didn't reek of Doritos and weed. She managed to reach the door only tripping once, closing it behind her quickly and exhaling as she leaned against it.

The cool air from the hall way rushed against her skin as she closed her eyes, Santana pressing her fingertips into her eyes and watching as brightly colored dots filled her lids. She paused a moment before opening her eyes again, noticing that a few people from the party had trickled into the hallway. A cloud of cigarette smoke and the smell of beer lingered in the air but it wasn't nearly as bad as the apartment, Santana pushing herself off the apartment door and walking towards the steps.

"You're not leaving already, are you?" a familiar voice asked from behind her, Santana smiling as she turned around to see Quinn, covered plate in hand, leaning against the stair railing. "I just got here."

"Well, well, well, look at you," Santana motioned as she waved her hand up and down towards Quinn, the brunette taking in her neighbors short blue and yellow striped dress.

"Thanks," Quinn smiled. "I was just about to head over but then I saw you slinking away. Nice dress by the way."

"Thanks," Santana replied, running her hands down her own red dress as she tried to smooth out the wrinkles.

"Sounds like your roommates' party is a hit," Quinn said as she looked towards Santana's apartment door, a chorus of screams and a crash emitting from behind the door.

"It's…something," Santana sighed, shifting her eyes away from the door and back towards Quinn. "What's that?" Santana asked as she pointed to the plate in Quinn's hand, the blonde's mouth opening in surprise as if she'd forgotten her hands were preoccupied.

"Oh, it's nothing," she brushed off. "I made some red velvet brownies to bring, but from the way it sounds and smells this isn't exactly a red velvet brownie kind of party."

"Like hell it's not," Santana brushed off, stepping forward and uncovering the tin foil. "Oh God, they look amazing." She carefully selected a brownie and took a bite off the corner, her eyes rolling into the back of her skull as she released a moan.

"Good?" Quinn asked, the way she bit her bottom lip drawing Santana's eyes to them.

"Are you kidding me? They're incredible!" Santana mumbled, the words causing bits of brownie to fly to the corners of her mouth. "Blondie you've got some serious skills."

"Blondie, that's a new one," Quinn smiled, her eyes watching Santana as she took another bite. "Usually it's Quinnie or Q."

"Too boring," Santana grumbled, looking down at her dress and noticing the crumbs. "Wow, I'm like a toddler."

"No, it's a good sign, shows you're enamored with the food," Quinn tried to help. "But you got a little…" She brought her finger up to the corner of Santana's lips, tenderly placing her fingertip against Santana's mouth as she picked a piece of brownie off of Santana. Quinn brought her fingertip back to her own lips as she licked the crumb away, the spot where she grazed Santana's mouth still stinging the brunette's skin.

"Mm, those are pretty good," she murmured casually, Santana watching in awe before realizing her mouth was hanging open with half a chewed dessert inside.

"Yeah, I-see, told you," Santana tried to play off, snapping her mouth shut as she swallowed, and temporarily choked, on the brownie left in her mouth. "So um, are you heading in there?"

"I…" Quinn trailed off as her eyes lingered to the couple now making out beside the apartment door, neither girl noticing their arrival. "…was." Santana could hear the hesitation in Quinn's voice and momentarily panicked, afraid she would leave and wanting nothing more than for her to stay.

"Well maybe we just wait, until it clears out a little," Santana suddenly blurted out loud, completely caught off guard by her own offer. What the hell was the point of waiting out in the hall? There wasn't any booze, or music, and it completely defeated the purpose of-

"Sure," Quinn shrugged, sidestepping around Santana and heading to the stairs before plopping down on the top step. Santana stood clueless for a moment before forcing herself to turn around, not sure why she had made that suggestion or why Quinn had taken her up on it.

"So, Santana," Quinn said happily as the brunette took a seat beside her, setting the plate of brownies between them as she rested her hands in her lap. "Tell me 5 interesting things about you."

"About me?" Santana repeated back, Quinn nodding as she smiled. "That's…random."

"It's my way of getting to know you," Quinn said lightly. "Go with it."

"Sure, ok," Santana chuckled, resting the palms of her hands on her knees as she thought. "Well, uh…Puck and I-"

"Not Puck, just you," Quinn corrected, Santana halting as she racked her brain.

"Ok, um, well…." Santana sat dumbfounded as she spent the next minute trying to piece together who she was, growing more flustered as she struggled. It was a basic question, she'd done this routine thousands of times at job interviews, yet under the watchful green eyes of Quinn she was floundering and frankly it pissed her off.

"Here," Quinn said as she patted Santana's hand. "I'll start." Santana tried to ignore the tingle that traveled up her arm, squirming in her spot as she watched Quinn speak.

"My full name is Lucy Quinn Fabray," she began, sticking one finger in the air for one fact. "I was born here in New York. My birthday is September 7th, and I work at a bakery."

"Ahhh, so that explains the sweets," Santana nodded, Quinn giggling as she shrugged.

"Yup, I spend my days covered in flour and sweat," she sighed. "But it's fun. Now, you're turn."

"But that was only 4 facts," Santana pointed out knowingly. "You owe me a fifth."

"Ah, so I do," Quinn said as she looked up, tossing her head side to side as she thought. "Let's see…oh, ok, I also have a cat named Mr. Sparkles."

"Mr. Sparkles, seriously?" Santana laughed. "How does Mr. Sparkles feel about being named Mr. Sparkles?"

"He's more pissed about the bow ties I put on him more than anything."

"Oh my God," Santana snorted, Quinn covering her mouth as she laughed. "Your poor cat."

"I know," Quinn sighed. "And he's so old and crotchety with his pink ass bows. It's fantastic." She reached between her and Santana as she grabbed the plate of brownies, pulling two out and handing one to Santana as she cleared her throat. "Ok, that was five, now it's your turn."

"Well," Santana thought, breaking a corner of brownie off as she ran her tongue across her lips. "My full name is Santana Diabla Lopez-"

"Wow, copying me, clearly being unoriginal is one of your facts," Quinn teased, Santana opening her mouth as she gasped.

"Wow, and clearly being a bitch is another one of yours?" Santana fired back, Quinn's eyes bulging as she leaned back.

"You little…" Quinn leaned in as she threw a piece of her brownie at Santana, the brunette turning her head as the piece of sweet grazed her cheek.

"Hey!" Santana squealed, swatting her hand before taking a piece of her own brownie and tossing it towards Quinn as it landed in the blonde's lap.

"That's what you get!" Quinn chuckled, taking the piece of dessert from her lap and popping it in her mouth. "Now stop stalling and get on with it." Santana turned to see Quinn waiting as she chewed, her hand motioning for Santana to get going as she leaned against the wall.

"Fine," Santana pretended to pout, brushing her hair away as she continued. "As I was saying…"

The two girls went on sharing, Santana talking about how she grew up in Lima, Ohio but moved to New Jersey with her mom, dad, brother and sister when she was 13, both girls laughing about their most embarrassing childhood memories and hatred of high school. Quinn went on about being an only child to a mom and dad who had pushed her to go to Columbia, Santana's Business degree and years spent at Thomas Edison State College seeming small compared to Quinn's university and Political Science degree. Between beer runs, Santana shared about dating Puck and realizing she was a lesbian, Quinn not flinching at the information but not discussing her own sexuality either, Santana spending their entire conversation trying to read between the lines as people slowly trickled out of her apartment.

"So, I gotta ask," Santana spoke up as she brought her fourth beer bottle down from her lips, Quinn flashing her a lazy, drunk smile as she listened and moved her legs out of the way for a drunk party goer to walk past. "I mean, you grew up in Tribeca, you summered in the Hamptons, and you went to Columbia University for Christ's sake-"

"Is there a point to this recap?" Quinn asked as she slid her back down the wall, propping her feet up in Santana's lap before crossing her arms.

"Yes," Santana slurred. "And the point is, how does someone who comes from all that money wind up living here in all…_this_," Santana said lowly, waving her hand at the chipping paint and cement floor of their apartment floor.

"Well, first of all," Quinn got out slowly as she pushed herself up and moved her feet out of Santana's lap, leaning forward as her arm rested against Santana's. "It's not _my_ money, it's my _parent's_ money."

"That is so something a rich, white girl says," Santana smiled, Quinn knocking the brunette's shoulder playfully as she reached for her beer.

"And secondly," Quinn went on, slinging her head back as she took a sip of beer. "I wanted to do my own thing, make my own path." Santana gazed at Quinn as the blonde brushed her bangs out of her face, her cheeks pink and lips wet as she spoke. "My dad was a lawyer, my mom his paralegal, and my dad's dad was a lawyer, his dad was a lawyer, and so on and so on. Naturally I was supposed to follow suit. Well, you see how that turned out."

"So they…disowned you?" Santana asked, Quinn shaking her head as she drained the last of her beer and set it on the landing.

"No, no, nothing like that. They just weren't thrilled when I wanted to go into the restaurant business. Didn't understand why I would wanna work in a kitchen when I could make six figures and live in some penthouse."

"And you don't want those things because…?" Santana trailed off, Quinn meeting her gaze as she smiled.

"Because they didn't make me happy."

"And this does?" Santana asked in disbelief, looking around them at the flickering overhead lights and wobbling stair railings. "Living in squalor makes you happy?"

"This isn't squalor, this is real," Quinn corrected. "And it's mine. I pay for my apartment with the money I make at my job. No, it's not much, but it's mine. _I_ call the shots, _I_ make the decisions. And that's what makes me happy."

Santana watched Quinn as she tapped her nails against the step beneath them, the two growing quiet as they got wrapped in their own thoughts.

"And one day, when I've saved enough, I'm gonna open my own bakery somewhere. Finally be in charge of my own little shop. Maybe even call it Blondie's Bakery, whatcha think about that?" Quinn asked, nudging Santana's shoulder again as she giggled.

"I think that sounds fabulous, and that I should definitely get some revenue from naming your brand," the brunette joked, Quinn widening her eyes before sticking her hand out.

"Deal." Santana stuck her own hand out and they shook, their eyes meeting as they shared a head nod. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think we need refills."

"Oh, it's cool, I'll get 'em," Santana said as she went to stand, Quinn pushing her back down and shaking her index finger back and forth.

"Nah ah, you've made the last…3, 4? God, how many has it been?"

"Enough?" Santana answered, Quinn waving her off as she collected their empty bottles.

"Nonsense, I'll go this time. I think the place has cleared out a little. Either that, or you've got random people passed out in your apartment."

"Woohoo," Santana cheered sarcastically, the bottles in Quinn's hands clanging loudly together as she walked towards Santana's apartment door.

"Be right back." Santana watched as she closed the door, sighing before turning back around.

Santana couldn't help but find Quinn fascinating, the tender but focused blonde she'd spent her evening with having broken through the image Santana had previously held. She was soft spoken but strong willed, delicate in her movements but determined in her actions, Santana wanting to delve deeper into the life Quinn lived behind her apartment door.

Their conversation had been friendly, but Santana was positive there was an electric charge hidden beneath the surface, Quinn's fingers seeming to linger a bit too long when she'd playfully shove Santana and eyes glistening a little too brightly when they'd meet her own. Quinn had yet to mention any previous boyfriends or girlfriends, but Santana was sure, almost positive, that something was happening between them.

She sat on the step a few minutes longer, replaying her conversation with Quinn over and over again as she recapped everything they'd discussed before she realized the blonde had been gone awhile. She looked back at the door and furrowed her brow, placing her hands on the stair railing and pulling herself up to stand.

"Easy girl," she mumbled to herself as she tried to gain her balance, now becoming fully aware of how hammered she was. Santana carefully made her way to her apartment door, leaning against the frame as she fumbled the knob.

"Quinn," she called out as she opened the door, music still blaring from the living room and hurting her ears as she entered. Placing one hand against the wall and one to her ear, Santana made her way to her kitchen, her counter unrecognizable underneath the pyramid of beer cans and shot glasses. There was still a decently sized crowd sitting on the floor in her living room, 2 people Santana had never seen making out on Puck's couch.

She turned to the right to see a few figures in the hallway, able to make out that they belonged to Quinn and Puck. Santana felt heat spread through her chest as her stomach dropped, making her way as quickly as she could to the hallway.

"…so that's gonna be pretty sweet," Puck was slurring as Santana walked up, Quinn turning and smiling as she waved. "There you are, I've been wondering where you've been San." He was clearly 3 sheets to the wind and leaning against the hallway wall for support, his goofy smile irritating Santana as she spoke up.

"Actually I've been-"

"Quinn finally made it," Puck interrupted as he placed his hand on the blonde's back, Quinn giving Santana a knowing smile as she played along.

"Well, I couldn't miss the party," she said happily, sticking her hand out as she leaned in. "It's Santana, right?"

"Yeah, and it's…Gwen?" Santana went along as she slapped Quinn's hand, the two of them enjoying their joke as Puck watched oblivious.

"No, Quinn," he corrected, Santana flashing him a bored look as he blinked slowly. "Qu-iiiiiiiiinn."

"Right," Santana nodded, Puck breaking their hand shake as he pulled Quinn to him.

"Here, you gotta come try this hunch punch my buddy Sam made, it's the shit," he drooled, forcing him and Quinn past Santana as he guided her towards the living room. "I mean it'll get you fuuuuuucked."

"Puck-"

"Actually, I've gotta get going," Quinn interrupted, cutting Santana and Puck both off as she moved away from Puck's grasp. "I've got an early morning."

"What? But you just got here!" Puck whined, stomping one of his feet as he pouted. "Quinn."

"I'm sorry, I promise not to get held up the next party you have," Quinn reassured him, placing her hands on his chest and patting him gently. "But thanks for inviting me." Puck stuck his bottom lip out as he watched Quinn head for the door, Santana following her as she tried to think of what to say.

"Qui-"

"Sorry, Puck caught me coming out the bathroom," Quinn whispered quietly, Santana listening as the blonde stepped closer. "And once he latched into me he just got to chattering away."

"He does that," Santana breathed, Quinn sighing as she straightened her dress.

"Well, I do need to go, didn't realize how late it had gotten," Quinn said softly. "But I had a lot of fun. Really."

"Yeah, same. Maybe next time we can move it into the doorway or something," Santana joked, Quinn laughing a little hard as she swayed.

"Sounds good," Quinn smiled, tilting her head to the side. Santana felt her body grow warm as her eyes locked with Quinn's, neither speaking as they stood together. Santana was pretty sure this was the part where someone made a move but she was frozen in place, her heart slamming against her ribs as the pounding echoed in her ears.

"San-"

"Bye Quiiiiiiinn," Puck sang from the kitchen, the blonde tearing her eyes away from Santana's as her name was called. "See ya later beautiful."

"Bye Puck," Quinn called back weakly, Santana staring at the floor as she cursed Puck. "See ya later San."

"Yeah," Santana choked out, not looking up until Quinn had closed the door behind her.

She lingered there another moment longer, torn between wanting to scream and trying to figure out if the past few hours had been real, a crash behind her bringing her back.

"Hey 'Tana, I got a shot with your name on it," Puck called from the kitchen, Santana spinning around in annoyance as she saw him wave a shot glass around. "Bring it on over."

"Screw off," she snapped, making her way through the kitchen and past the living room into the hall.

"Woah, the fuck is that for?" he shouted, Santana slamming her bedroom door as he shrugged it off.

Santana made her way to her bed and collapsed on top of it, her room spinning before her eyes as she moaned. She rolled her body over and closed her eyes, bringing her knees up to her waist and burying her head into the sheets.

She couldn't stop thinking about Quinn, and what would have happened had Puck never called out. What was Quinn gonna say? Was she gonna ask her out? Kiss her? What? The possibilities causing the anger in Santana's chest to diffuse as excitement filled it instead.

Santana didn't know what Quinn's situation was, or what was happening between them, but there was one thing she did know for sure; she, Santana Lopez, had a crush on the girl just across the hall.


	4. Chapter 4

Once again, I am completely blown away by the response to this story! I'm beyond thankful to you all for taking the time to read and review.

A few notes about the story overall; I'm using this chapter to give more insight into Santana's background, and help flesh out her character. I know these aren't the characters you may be used to from the Glee universe, but I'm tweaking their personalities a bit to make them fit into my own little world and match the experiences I'm giving them.

Also, obligatory 'these characters sadly belong to Ryan Murphy and co., the only things belonging to me being this story plot and Santana and Puck's shitty apartment'.

On a final note, the description does mention brief Quick, so yes there will be Quick moments in the story. I also point out to you that it states eventual Quinntana, so please trust in your author, an avid Quinntana lover, who would never lie or lead you astray.

With that in mind, I give you the next chapter, which is rated M for light smut, and hope you all will enjoy!

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><p><em>Here's the pride before the fall,<em>

_Oh your eyes they show it all_

_I can see it coming, I can see it coming_

- Naughty Boy feat. Bastille

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><p><em>"Sounds good," Quinn smiled, tilting her head to the side. Santana felt her body grow warm as her eyes locked with Quinn's, neither speaking as they stood together. Santana was pretty sure this was the part where someone made a move but she was frozen in place, her heart slamming against her ribs as the pounding echoed in her ears.<em>

_"San-"_

_Santana would never know what it was that Quinn was about to say, the blonde never finishing her sentence as Santana's mouth cut her off. The brunette slammed her lips into Quinn's as her hands roughly yanked the other girl forward, Santana's body pressing into Quinn's as they crashed against the door._

_"San…San," Quinn moaned between kisses as she dug her nails into Santana's neck, the brunette's hands sliding up and down Quinn's slender frame as they clawed and gripped at any and every part of her they could get to._

_Santana moved her mouth from Quinn's swollen lips, placing hungry kisses down her chin and jaw until she reached the crook of Quinn's neck. Her hands were still grasping at Quinn's body, her right hand holding Quinn against the door as her left tore the strap of Quinn's dress and revealed her white, lacy bra._

_"I want you," Quinn whispered into Santana's ear, her mouth brushing against Santana's ear lobe before she bit down on the skin._

_"Fuck," Santana groaned as she pulled her face up to Quinn's, the blonde running her hands through Santana's dark hair before pulling her in for another ravenous kiss._

_Santana's fingers had been pulling at Quinn's bra and had finally managed to yank it down, exposing Quinn's right breast. The cool air rushed against Quinn's pink, perky nipple and instantly caused it to harden, Quinn hissing at the sudden sensation and causing Santana to replace her hand with her mouth._

_"Oh God, San," Quinn gasped out as the brunette's warm mouth enveloped the bud of nerves, Quinn entangling her fingers in Santana's hair as she pushed her breasts farther into her mouth. "Yes." Santana sucked the tender skin as she flicked her tongue against the sensitive flesh, Quinn squirming against Santana's body as she hiked her left leg up and wrapped it around Santana's waist to pull her even closer._

_Santana locked eyes with Quinn as she pulled her mouth away, running her tongue over Quinn's nipple a few more times before moving her hands to pull down the rest of Quinn's dress and bra. She let her tongue lightly nibble at the other breast before moving her lips to the canyon between Quinn's ribs, placing light kisses as she moved down._

_"You want more?" she asked in a husky voice, Santana moving Quinn's leg to rest on her shoulder as she rested on her knees. Quinn released a breathy sigh as she nodded her head furiously, her hands fondling her nipples as she tried to steady her breathing._

_Santana ran her tongue across Quinn's tight belly button before moving her mouth down, her lips nibbling at the edge of Quinn's panties._

_"Please," Quinn begged as she arched her body, Santana moving her hands to grip Quinn's hips as she held her against the wall. "San."_

"San."

_"More," Quinn whimpered, Santana's teeth biting down on the material of Quinn's panties as she pulled them down._

"San."

_"Mmm, yes," Quinn squeaked, Santana's sliding Quinn's panties down until she'd exposed-_

"San. Santana."

"Mmm."

"Santana!"

The brunette's eyes snapped open as she was ripped from her dream, jerking upward in her bed when she saw Puck laying beside her with a grin spread across his face.

"And just who were _you_ fantasizing about missy?" he asked in amusement, Santana rolling her eyes as she pulled her covers back.

"Why are you in my room? In my bed? I'm pretty sure we have a rule about this," Santana yawned as she sat upright and stretched her arms above her head, Puck crawled towards her as she squinted to see her alarm clock. "Aw, damn it Puck, I still had 10 more minutes to sleep."

"Don't change the subject, you were totally having a sex dream," he went on, moving to sit beside her as he sent 2 fingers crawling up her thigh. "Little wet are we?"

"Puck, stop!" Santana dismissed as she smacked his hand, Puck pulling it away quickly as he released a yelp. He wasn't wrong but Santana had no desire to explain who it was that had invaded her thoughts and had her writhing in her sheets, Santana's cheeks still flushed from the things she'd done in her dream.

"Geez, alright," Puck mumbled, sucking the knuckle Santana had hit as he moved his legs to sit Indian style. "Someone's starting their day off a little rocky."

"Well maybe that's because _someone_-" Santana's sentence was cut short as the clanging of pots caught her ear, her eyes growing wide as she looked at Puck.

"Oh my God, someone's in our apartment!" she whispered, instantly springing into defense mode as she ran to her closet in search for her bat.

"San-"

"Who the hell breaks into someone's apartment in the morning?" she asked frantically, slinging a pair of heels across the room as she reached for her weapon of choice. "And who would keep money in the cabinets? Idiot."

"San, relax," Puck laughed as he moved off the bed and stood up, placing both hands up as she swung around with bat in hand. "It's not a burglar, just the chick I slept with last night."

"What?" Santana asked, her face contorting in confusion as Puck rolled his eyes. "What the hell, Puckerman?"

"She's some performer they hire every once and a while. She was there setting her stage up and I invited her out-"

"No, I don't give a shit about her back story," Santana interjected, lowering the bat by her side as she breathed deeply. "I mean why the hell is she in our kitchen?"

"Oh, I dunno," Puck shrugged. "Said something about breakfast, I wasn't listening."

"You, not listening to a woman? Go figure," Santana said sarcastically, Puck making a face as he gave her the finger. "Shouldn't you be more careful though? You've yet to even work a shift there, and you're already sleeping with your co-workers?"

"What can I say, I work fast," he shrugged with a smile, Santana dropping the bat as she gagged.

"You're disgusting."

"And you're jealous," he said playfully, bopping Santana on the nose as he picked up the bat.

"Of your Hep C? Nah, I'm good," the brunette fired back as she turned off her alarm, Puck frowning as she began picking her things back up. "So, if she's in the kitchen, then why are you in here?"

"She kept talking, driving me nuts," he answered lowly, swinging the bat as Santana ducked to avoid him. "I told her I had to shower and get ready to leave and run some errands."

"And then detoured into my room to…?"

"I don't know, say hey," Puck mumbled, Santana putting the rest of her shoes and clothes back into her closet before shutting the door. "Didn't see you last night."

"Well, you know," Santana trailed off, thinking back to the previous night and her time spent with Quinn. The annoyance that was creeping up her spine fizzled as she smiled, Puck, as usual, interrupting her moment as he spoke.

"…she thought you were hot."

"Wait, what?" Santana asked, turning around from her closet as she stared at Puck. "Who?"

"Talk about not listening," Puck said smugly. "I was telling you I wanted you to talk to Candy. You know, the blonde from my work?" Santana racked her brain, recalling the conversation about Carmen Sandiego she'd had and snorting.

"Wow, I'm flattered," she said sarcastically, Puck narrowing his eyes.

"Come on, she's pretty hot. You could do worse."

"Yeah, I could date an actual jackass," Santana brushed off. "No thanks, not interested." She made her way to her dresser, grabbing her uniform off and waving it out as Puck continued to walk around her room mindlessly swinging the bat.

"I'm not saying marry her or even date her, just maybe have a one night stand, get your feet wet in the women New York has to offer," Puck suggested, Santana's face causing him to stop. "Or not, whatever. Anyways, speaking of hotties, Quinn looked pretty fine, huh?" he smiled, Santana feeling her stomach flip at the mention of her name. "Like smoking."

"Yeah, she's a cutie," Santana tried to play off, leaning down with one hand as she pulled off her socks.

"Psh, understatement of the year," Puck muttered, choking up on the bat as he prepared to swing. "I think I'm gonna finally ask her out."

"What?" Santana asked sharply, Puck halting mid-swing as he caught her eye. "I mean, what about…" She waved her hand towards their kitchen, Puck's one night stand now running the sink as he followed her direction.

"What about her? She was just a hookup," he said nonchalantly, anger bubbling in Santana's chest as she scoffed. Typical Puck, the thought of him touching Quinn making Santana jealous. And why? They weren't dating, they weren't anything really, and Santana didn't even know what Quinn's orientation was or if she was single, trying to soothe her aggravation as she breathed.

"Wow, so Quinn's just gonna be another one night stand?" she asked, Puck looking around cluelessly.

"I don't know," he answered. "I mean I like her, but I can't predict the future." Santana shook her head as she walked towards her bed.

"You don't even know her, you-you're unbelievable."

"What? What did I do now?" Puck asked, no longer swinging the bat as he turned to face Santana. "Were you gonna ask her out?"

"I didn't say that," Santana replied, wanting to avoid his question as she tried to keep her cool.

"Well, I mean-I didn't even think you were interested in dating right now is all," Puck mumbled, Santana giving him a sharp look as she leaned her head forward.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she asked hotly, Puck sighing as he fumbled for words.

"I just meant that…after everything with Brittany…" Santana saw red as her heart raced, clinching her fist as she shook.

"Are you serious?" she asked, anger and sadness swirling as she tried to keep her voice from cracking. "You're gonna throw that at me?"

"San," Puck tried, his roommate holding her hand out as she rushed to her bed. "I didn't mean anything by it."

"Didn't mean anything by it," Santana repeated, pulling her t-shirt off hastily and tossing it on her bed before kicking her shorts off. "Just-get out Puck."

"Look, don't pretend that that's why you're mad at me, don't blame something else on her," Puck began, Santana glaring at him as she fumbled with her clothes. "Shit."

"Get the fuck out," Santana said lowly, trying to hold back as she hurried to get dressed.

"I just mean, I don't know, you've been so snappy and tense lately, hell since we got here," Puck tried to explain, following Santana around her room as she scrambled to get ready for work. "Like, any time we talk you're always yelling at me for something." Santana stepped in to her uniform as she slid it up her legs, pushing her arms into the sleeves as she wiggled it around to fit. "San-"

"Fuck off Puck," she cut him off, grabbing her shoes and work badge before storming out her bedroom door.

"Santana, would you stop!" Normally Santana would have swung and started screaming in Spanish, something she knew terrified Puck to no end, her temper always getting the best of her. The moment Puck brought up her ex Brittany though any fight she had in her was extinguished, the wind proverbially knocked out of her as her stomach twisted. She didn't want to scream or fight or call Puck every name in the book, all she wanted was to get the hell away from everyone and thing, her eyes already burning as she barged into the hall.

"Please-"

"Hi!" a small form squealed out of nowhere, Santana releasing a 'fuck' as she toppled back into Puck.

"Who the hell are you?!" Santana shouted, Puck pushing her forward as she gathered her balance.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," the Keebler elf squeaked, Santana still flashing a face of horror as the tiny Koosh ball of brown frizz extended her hand. "I'm Rachel Berry, I'm friends with Noah. Well, I guess _more_ than friends." Santana turned to flash Puck an annoyed face as he looked away, Santana finally sticking her hand into the other girls briefly before sliding around her.

"Wonderful, I gotta go though-"

"Nah ah ah, not so fast," Rachel said as she quickly moved to block Santana, Puck hissing as he saw Santana's body tense.

"Hey, Rach-"

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, your body needs fuel in order to get into gear," Rachel continued, Santana's jaw clenching as she tightened her grip on her shoes. "And I've prepared the perfect meal to give you two just what you need." Rachel grabbed Santana's arm and they made their way into the, now spotless, kitchen, the hairy hamster Vanna Whiting the plates in front of them as she described each.

"I have blueberry whole grain for any health nuts-"

"Puck-"

"Cinnamon maple for those wanting a taste of the classics-"

"San, please-"

"And chocolate chip for the kid in us all!"

"Get. It," Santana gritted out, Puck taking his cue as he moved around the counter to join them.

"Rach, babe, I'm stoked that you cooked and cleaned for us, really," he cooed, Santana moving as Puck took her place. "But see San is late for work, so…" Santana grabbed her purse and unlatched the door as she slid her shoes on, slinging it open as she stepped out.

"It was a pleasure to meet you!" she heard Rachel call from behind her, Santana slamming the door before storming down the stairs.

She stomped down each step as she hurried down the flights of stairs, her mind running on full speed as she recalled Puck's comment about her ex.

Brittany had been Santana's (secret) high school and college sweetheart, the two meeting during sophomore year of high school. They'd cheered together on the varsity team and fallen for each other over the course of the season, keeping their romance a secret since neither had yet come out.

It was during this time that Santana had to face and come to terms with her sexuality, Brittany admitting she had feelings for the brunette but never identifying her orientation. At the time, it hadn't bothered Santana, not really caring what Brittany identified with as long as she was honest with her feelings towards Santana. The brunette on the other hand eventually came out to her family and friends, telling her family about the way she felt but never revealing her relationship with Brittany. Her girlfriend had remained silent, Santana respecting Brittany's wishes as they dated throughout high school as the two graduated still hand and hand.

College came and the two had ended up at separate schools, Santana making the hour drive from Thomas Edison State every weekend to visit her family, and Brittany, while the blonde had chosen to live at home and attend Montclair State University to study broadcast journalism. Everything was going perfectly according to plan in Brittany's eyes but Santana felt restless, wanting to take her relationship with Brittany to a serious level. She'd talked about the two of them moving in after college and was constantly met with rejection, Brittany still fearful of coming out to her family and friends. She repeatedly promised Santana of "one day", swearing that when the time was right she would follow through, Santana growing wearier as year after year passed in secrecy passed.

Senior year of college proved to be their biggest challenge, Santana's internship at a company taking her time away from her family and Brittany. The two struggled with communication and visiting, everything coming to a head when Santana called Brittany out on her lack of commitment. She raged about how Brittany had never been the one to travel to see Santana and never made the effort to communicate or reveal their relationship, Brittany asking for a break so she could think things over. Santana had agreed in the hopes that her girlfriend would realize how committed Santana was and recognize how hard she had worked, Christmas Break bringing Santana the shock of her life.

Brittany had finally told her parents about the relationship only to come to the agreement with them that her entire relationship with Santana was merely a phase, her parents explaining that it was ok that she had experimented but that she was obviously straight. Brittany had not only agreed but was ready to move on with her life, breaking up with Santana and explaining that, while she wanted to stay friends, she'd never really loved her and was grateful Santana helped her realize her true feelings. Santana had been left stunned and betrayed as she stood dumbfounded in Brittany's driveway, heartbroken with only a box of old pictures and knick knacks from their 6 year relationship to comfort her.

It had been at that point that she had fast tracked her move to New York, immediately deciding to move the summer after graduating instead of waiting a few years to save. Santana had kept to herself romantically since, Puck's comment not wrong but still stinging as it brought her back to the present. She knew he hadn't meant anything harmful by it but the truth wasn't comforting, Puck being the only other person who had known, and dealt with, Santana's breakdown after Brittany. She had sworn to him then that she was done with dating and maybe he'd really taken her word for it, Santana's interest in Quinn even surprising herself.

The whole thing had given her a headache now and she wanted to sweep it from her mind for the time being, Santana walking into the sunlight as she exited her building and immediately shielding her eyes. There was a lot about the past few days with Puck that he hadn't understood and she knew she probably needed to explain, and figure out herself, Santana not having the strength to think about it anymore as she headed to work.

* * *

><p>"Thanks for coming by! Drive safely, and please come see us again soon!" Santana waved as she said goodbye to the last customers of the night, waiting till they were in their car and reversing before letting her hand slump against her side. She turned the lock and flipped the closed sign, sighing deeply as she headed towards the employees 'lounge'. Lounge was a loose term and a joke among the staff, their lounge being the stock room with a shelf that held their coats and personal items and the time card machine.<p>

"Regina, you need anything else before I clock out?" Santana called, the very pregnant waitress pulling herself up from behind the counter as she shook her head.

"No, I'm good. Gonna put these last few bus tubs in the back for Chris and then I'm gonna lock the back doors. Go ahead on home, honey."

"You sure?" Santana asked, Regina the only other co-worker, and 20 something, that Santana actually a) liked and b) could stand.

"Positive. I have tomorrow off so I'll see you Sunday."

"Alright, take care," Santana smiled, heading to the back to get her stuff and clock out.

The night air was cool against Santana's skin as she stepped out of the diner, rubbing her arms as she walked down the sidewalk that ran along the building. She unzipped her purse and fumbled for her phone, sliding the screen to see she had a dozen or so text messages and missed calls all from Puck. She felt a knot twist in her stomach as she clicked her messages icon, selecting the messages and scanning through them quickly.

Fuckerman: srry bout her

Fuckerman: didnt know she was crazy

Fuckerman: she did clean tho

Fuckerman: still really srry

Fuckerman: we gotta talk tho

Fuckerman: call me on ur break

Fuckerman: pls

Fuckerman: tried 2 call

Fuckerman: call when u can

Fuckerman: pls?

Fuckerman: love u babe

She scrolled through the rest of the messages, all similar in content, before clicking her phone icon. She'd missed several calls from Puck and had a few voicemails waiting, Santana clicking on the first as Puck's voice filled her ear.

"I'm super sorry about Rachel," Puck began, Santana noting his whisper before hearing his one night stand call out from the background. "I didn't know she was so…yeah, anyways, we need to finish our conversation ok? Call me on your break or something." Santana pulled the phone away from her ear, clicking out of the voicemail and scrolling to the next. Each message she played was similar in plea, Santana noting the sincerity in Puck's voice and feeling a twinge of guilt.

Puck was a douche when it came to women, no doubt, and he pretty much sucked when it came to keeping up with his responsibilities, but beneath his cocky attitude and smugness he did genuinely care about Santana, the brunette trying to recall a time he'd purposely let her down and coming up empty. He was oblivious about the consequences of his actions but he'd always done his best to have Santana's back, Puck the only person who truly knew the ins and outs of Santana. She knew a lot of the tension between them was miscommunication, not just about Quinn but about a lot of aspects in their lives, the brunette not thrilled to admit the tinge of jealousy she felt over Puck's ease with his new job and new co-workers.

She and Puck had always had a way of just getting along and attracting people, high school a breeze for them both. Even in college, though Puck never went, the two still had a way of charming any room they entered, Santana bringing Puck to any party she knew of as they worked together to land Puck a lay. His promiscuity never bothered Santana, but it seemed like after Brittany everything bothered her, Santana's walls keeping her from just about everything, even Puck sometimes.

She also realized that as mad as she wanted to be about his intentions with Quinn, and his stupid comments, that Puck didn't have any clue how Santana felt, realizing that if she wanted him to back off she'd have to admit how she felt to him and herself.

She hurried along down the sidewalk, turning quickly on her block and pushing the door to her apartment building open. She climbed each stair as she thought about Puck then Quinn, now shifting her thoughts to a happier topic as she tried to pinpoint what it was about her neighbor that had even turned her head in the first place. She recalled their first encounter and meetings since then, Santana smiling as she pictured drunk Quinn giggling on the stairs.

It wasn't like Quinn was the first girl she'd ever seen since Brittany or that she was the manic pixie dream girl of Santana's fantasy, her crush on Quinn having snuck up on Santana. Quinn just had this calming vibe about her, a softness that Santana envied, the easiness about Quinn thawing the fear in Santana.

She reached her floor and made her way to her apartment, shuffling for her keys before unlocking her door. Upon entering, Santana's nostrils were filled with the smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread, Santana's eyes finding Puck at the stove. He had on her pink puppy apron, the one she got with her sister last Christmas, and was shaking his hips as he hummed along to Santana's Aretha Franklin record, Santana fighting back a laugh as she watched him wiggle.

"…_cause you make me feel, you make me feel_," he sang along as he pulled a noodle out of the boiling pot in front of him, dropping it into his mouth as he tested its texture before clapping his hands. "You make me feel like a natural woman." He nodded his head as he slid on kitchen gloves, turning the stove off and picking up the pot as he headed to the sink to drain the noodles.

Santana remained silent as she quietly closed the door behind her, stepping towards the kitchen as her eyes studied the room. Puck had not only cleaned up Rachel's breakfast but he'd decorated the breakfast nook, Puck setting plates and glasses out with silverware as a red Solo cup of dandelions rested in the center of the table.

"Hey! You're home!" Puck exclaimed, having spotted Santana as he turned back towards the stove. "You're just in time, the noodles just finished cooking."

"You did all this?" Santana asked as she pointed towards the breakfast nook, Puck wiping his gloves on the apron as he nodded. "Puck-"

"Wait, hold on," he cut her off, holding up a finger as he waved her towards the refrigerator. "I also made this." Santana stepped into the kitchen as Puck pulled a yellow poster board off the refrigerator, holding it up as Santana read the writing.

"Chore Chart," she said aloud, looking underneath to see Puck had scribbled their names at the top. Beneath there were several chores listed, Puck pointing to the stickers beside his name as he spoke.

"See, these are the one I figured I could do this week," he explained. "And these are the ones you can do. Then like you said, next week we can switch. The stickers come off really easy, so we can just re-stick them or whatever." Santana smiled as she ran a finger over the sunshine sticker beside her name, Puck waiting for a response as he bit his lip. "I mean, if you're ok with that."

"I'm very ok with it," Santana nodded, Puck releasing a breath as he moved to put the chart back. "Puck-"

"I'm sorry," he interjected. "And I'm also sorry I keep interrupting you, I'll work on that too." Puck moved towards Santana as he placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

"San, I know I'm not the perfect roommate, and I know you weren't exactly thrilled to have me come here with you."

"Puck-"

"And I know I've been dragging ass to help you out. I've been lazy and more focused on having a good time and meeting women."

"Puck's that not a bad thing-"

"No, it's not, but I know I need to like-sort my priorities and shit. I need to listen to you and help you and stuff. 'Cause let's face it, I wouldn't even be in New York if you hadn't agreed to let me tag along," Puck smiled, Santana leaning against the counter as she put her things down. "I promise to try harder than I have. Swear."

"Me too," Santana nodded with a sigh, Puck flashing a confused face as he furrowed his brow.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I think-I think I've been taking my own frustrations out on you," Santana explained. "I've been so worried about everything, rent and this crappy apartment and-Puck I hate my job, I hate being broke, and everything I thought this would be it isn't. And everything seems to just be so easy for you."

"How?" Puck asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter and listened, actually listened.

"I mean, you want something, it happens," Santana explained. "You wanted the bouncer job, you got it, you don't even work there a day and already love your co-workers and have friends and are hooking up with women and have Double D Darla infatuated with you-"

"Double D Darla?" Puck snorted, Santana shrugging as she smiled. "Nice."

"Thanks," she grinned, shaking her head as she got side-tracked. "I'm just saying that things seem so easy for you here and I think-I think I'm kinda jealous. I wanted New York to be this great new start and it's not, not for me, and it has been for you and you didn't even care about coming here."

"Look," Puck began. "You gotta stop worrying about shit. Yeah, you got bills, but you got me to help and we both have jobs and we're doing the best we can to pay them, and no amount of yelling makes them go away. Ok, your job sucks, but you know what it's only 8 hours a day, and once we're better on our feet you can find something else."

"You make it sound so easy," Santana grumbled.

"For me it is, because like you said I'm just tagging along," Puck said softly. "I know that this was supposed to be a new adventure that would be filled with new people and opportunities, but San this is better than any of that stuff you dreamed up."

"How?" Santana asked doubtfully.

"Because it's real," Puck answered. "It's real, and it happened because of you. We have this apartment because of you, and jobs because of you and the fact that you scolded me until I got one." Santana laughed finally, Puck pulling her in as he nodded.

"It's not that it's easier for me, you just care more because you put everything you have into this whole thing. I know it's not perfect or whatever, but it'll get better and easier. We just gotta hang together and see this through." Santana relaxed against Puck as he wrapped his arms around her, swaying her side to side as he pecked her head.

"I haven't meant to be a total bitch, I just-"

"It's cool, I needed a kick in the ass," Puck stated, Santana not fighting back as she rested her hands on his lower back. "I just wanna be on each other's teams again. You know, Puck and Santana take on the city."

"Like action heroes?"

"Exactly like action heroes!" Puck exclaimed, Santana pulling back as he rose he eyebrows. "So whatcha say?" Santana looked up at Puck, noticing the hope in his eyes as he smiled. Puck was and wasn't a lot of things, but at the end of the day he was her best friend, Santana smiling as she nodded.

"I say we eat first, fight crime later."

"Solid," Puck said as he raised a fist, releasing Santana as he grabbed the noodles. "I'm gonna mix these with the sauce, will you get the bread?" Santana turned towards the end of the counter where Puck had placed the garlic bread in an old basket covered with napkins, Santana laughing at his décor choice and walking it over to the table.

"Well, while we're doing an open forum confession, I wanna add a new topic," Santana spoke up, Puck looking over at her as he nodded.

"I'm listening," he smiled, sauce splattering everywhere as he tossed the noodles. "Go ahead."

A knock echoed throughout the apartment as Santana peeked around Puck, flashing him a confused face as she nodded towards the door. "Friend of yours?"

"And yours," Puck smiled, wiping his hands on the apron before pulling it off and heading for the door. "I knew you didn't get to try any of Quinn's cookies-"

"Puck, that's actually what-"

"So," he said as he swung the door open, Quinn standing in the door frame with a covered plate in hand. "I asked her to bring some over and join us for dinner."

Santana's mouth hung open, neither of the 3 speaking as they waited for the other to say something. Puck, on his kick to be a better friend, had invited over the one thing that had, unknowingly to him, been a source of friction between him and Santana, the brunette biting her lip as she anticipated how their evening of pining over the same girl would go.


	5. Chapter 5

As always, very thankful for the reviews! There were a few questions that I wanted to help a few readers with though.

First, Quinn is taller. I think I had been debating about who to write about in height comparison, and wound up describing the wrong Glee girl. So yes, Quinn is taller and I went back and corrected my error, so thank you!

When it comes to Santana's job, I paralleled her experiences to the experiences I saw so many of my own friends and fellow graduates going through, having a degree but it not being enough for a position or the market being flooded and nothing really being available. For now yes, she is pulling her weight in a diner, but we'll see where things take her from there.

Hope you enjoy this new chapter, and well wishes until the next update!

* * *

><p><em>Darlin', I'll bathe your skin,<em>

_I'll even wash your clothes_

_Just give me some candy,_

_Before I go_

- Paolo Nutini

* * *

><p>"…and that's how Puck got the nickname Fuckerman."<p>

Quinn placed her napkin over her mouth as she laughed, Puck chunking a piece of his garlic bread across the table at Santana as she shrugged.

"Ha ha, thanks for that, Blopez."

"Anytime," Santana smiled smugly, her and Puck trading high school horror stories as they recounted for Quinn how they'd met.

Contrary to Santana's initial thought the dinner had gone surprisingly well, the three of them foregoing the kitchen table as they sat around the rickety coffee table in the living room. Santana had enjoyed the playful banter as they answered Quinn's questions about their lives prior to their move to New York, the brunette laughing genuinely and enjoying herself for the first time since arriving in New York. There was no talk of bills or work as they ate the not so cooked pasta and drank the extremely cheap wine, Santana catching herself looking around as she noted that this was how she'd imagined New York would, and could, be. The topic of Puck's party had also been sidestepped so far as well, neither Santana nor Quinn making any mention of ditching Puck's party to rendezvous in the hall.

"Anybody want any more?" Puck spoke up, holding the dish of pasta in one hand as he clapped the tongs with the other.

"No thanks, I'm stuffed," Quinn said happily as she leaned back against the couch and rubbed a hand over her stomach, Puck pointing the dish at Santana and noting her head shake before sliding the rest on his plate. "Cool, more for me."

"Though I wouldn't say no to one of those cookies you brought with you," Santana hinted, Quinn raising her hands before she moved to stand.

"I got this one. Milk?"

"Duh," Santana nodded, Puck giving a thumbs up as he chewed a mouthful of meatball.

"You know the only thing that would make those things better?" Puck asked lowly as he turned to his roommate and motioned towards the plate of cookies Quinn was picking up, Santana bracing herself for a horrible pun as Puck swallowed. "Weed."

"How 1970s of you," Santana said flatly as she lowered her eyes, Puck shrugging as he swirled another forkful of pasta. "Maybe we could wear tie dyed shirts and have an orgy at the next party too?"

"I'm game, just saying," Puck smiled, Santana grimacing before shifting her eyes to Quinn.

"Ok, these are pink lemonade," she said as she pulled back the plastic wrap. "The blue swirled ones are blueberry-" Quinn's explanation was cut off as Puck's cell phone jingled loudly, Santana flashing him a look of confusion and annoyance as he shuffled for his phone.

"Shit, I gotta go," he said quickly, throwing back the rest of his wine before hurrying up off the floor. "I'm late for work."

"Sorry, Puck's got a bad habit of cutting people off," Santana explained fakely sweet, watching him dart for his apartment keys as he tried to brush sauce from his shirt. "And apparently making awesome first impressions at work."

"But I'm working to improve," he hollered as he ran to the door, shoving his feet in his shoes before throwing open the door. "See you ladies later. San, have fun on dish duty. And Quinn, always a pleasure." Santana rolled her eyes as he winked before making his exit, boosting herself up from her spot on the floor and taking in the stillness of the apartment as her and Quinn remained. She felt a small twinge in her stomach as she met Quinn's eyes, shaking her head and looking at the plate the blonde was holding as she wiggled her fingers over a green cookie drizzled with caramel.

"Caramel apple," Quinn announced as Santana picked up the cookie and took a bite, moaning as she leaned back against the pillows she'd stacked up.

"You should go into business for yourself, I'm telling you," the brunette mumbled between chews.

"Yeah?" Quinn asked, sitting down beside Santana as she slid the plate onto the coffee table. "That might finally make my parents proud of me. Know anyone who can back me financially?"

"No, but I know someone who would rather be covered in sugar and flour than grease and sweat," Santana answered, waving her hand as she bulged her eyes.

"So where exactly is it that you work?" Quinn asked, turning her body to face Santana's as she leaned her side against the couch.

"I spend my days slaving away at Dina's Diner," Santana explained, Quinn raising her brows as she followed along. "The supporting cast includes Regina a preggo redhead, Grandma Glenda the Grouch, Bob the manager with an excessive and gross sweating problem, Pete the Pornstache, and Amy."

"Amy? Just Amy?" Quinn asked in amusement. "No cute nickname?"

"Nah, she and Regina aren't half bad. Amy's super high pitched, but she and preggers gets shit done," Santana explained.

"So then I'm guessing you're the star of this rag tag team of misfits?"

"Obviously," Santana answered, popping another piece of Quinn's cookie in her mouth. "I'm the one narrating the entire thing. It's mostly just me panning to an invisible camera Jim Halpert style though." Quinn laughed as she leaned over to get her wine glass, taking a sip and making a face as she rested it by her foot.

"It's awful, I know," Santana whispered, grabbing another cookie and handing it to Quinn as she finished her own. "Just eat. It'll make it better."

"That's my motto," Quinn said as she took a bite. "So, you have a business degree right? Why not find something in that field?"

"Because every job I looked at was either a) filled, b) required higher degrees, or c) had an unpaid internship program, and not getting paid isn't feasible right now," Santana elaborated, Quinn pursing her lips as she thought.

"You know, my roommate Kurt-"

"You have a roommate?" Santana interrupted, Quinn startled by the interjection as the brunette shook her head. "Puck moment, sorry, I've just literally never seen anyone else come or go from your apartment."

"He's mostly been staying across town with his high school sweetheart from back home. But back to the important question; you've been watching my apartment?" Quinn asked, enjoying the look on Santana's face as she smiled. "Stalker, I knew you had a flaw somewhere."

"Oh let me tell ya," Santana played along. "All hours, all day, Single White Female-ing your ass with binoculars through the peep hole."

"I feel like I should be terrified but mostly I'm just flattered," Quinn said as she patted Santana's hand.

"Jesus, you're damaged," Santana snorted, grabbing her second cookie as Quinn shrugged. "What about your roommate though?"

"Well," Quinn began, shifting to sit up as she brushed her bangs away. "When he first moved here he got a job working at this boutique, and after getting experience he did one of those unpaid internships like you mentioned. It was a lot, but it led to him being hired as an assistant." Santana listened intently as Quinn spoke, watching her expressions change and noticing how she talked with her hands moving around emphatically.

"He ended up using her as his reference and now works as a consultant. I mean it was a lot and he worked two jobs while only getting paid for one for a while, but he's happy now. You could maybe do something like that, I think you could handle it."

"Yeah?" Santana asked, Quinn nodding as she smoothed out her dress. "It's a thought."

"Then you could use your business to back my bakery. It's a win-win."

"Ah, so you're using me," Santana sighed. "I knew you had a flaw somewhere."

"What can I say, I'm a woman who knows what she wants."

"And what is that, Ms. Fabray?" Santana asked resting her head in her hand as she leaned on the couch cushions.

"Well, Oprah," Quinn said as she thought, shifting her eyes up as she racked her brain. "My own business. Financial stability. An apartment with windows that don't leak would be nice."

"You mean you aren't enjoying your stay here?" Santana asked, moving her hand around as she motioned at her apartment. "I'm addled."

"Addled?" Quinn asked as she raised a brow, Santana rolling her eyes as she ran her tongue across her teeth before sucking them.

"Yeah, Puck's been reading up big words to impress 'the ladies' as he calls them," Santana explained, Quinn flashing her an amused face as the brunette waved her off. "If anything he just sounds like a pretentious asshole."

"Speaking of-"

"Pretentious assholes?" Santana chimed in.

"Yeah, you and Puck," Quinn answered, Santana's smile turning into a smirk as the blonde went on. "You told me you guys dated, right? So how does this all work? I mean I know you aren't attracted or interested, but I mean there's no tension?"

"Ignoring the fact that you totally insulted me back there," Santana began, pushing herself to sit back up as she adjusted her feet. "Honestly no, there isn't. I mean you hung out with us, it's not like that. Puck and I have both agreed that we weren't in love or anything. We didn't even like each other, Hell most days we still don't. It was just that he was popular, I was popular, we were both single, it just seemed to make sense. I mean he was definitely not to me what Brittany-"

She stopped suddenly as her mouth let the words go before realizing what they meant. She didn't know how to correct herself or get them back so she sat there in silence, seeing Quinn moving out of the corner of her eye and hoping naïvely that in some horribly unrealistic way she hadn't heard her.

"Who's Brittany?" Quinn asked without missing a beat, Santana knowing the question was coming but still not prepared for how to answer it.

"She…was my girlfriend, from high school," Santana answered slowly, carefully piecing her words together as she tiptoed around the small tinge of pain in her chest. "And college. We broke up Christmas before graduation." Quinn listened attentively as she tapped her thumb nail against her wine glass, Santana staring intently at her chipped toe nail polish as she waited for Quinn to say something.

"I'm sorry," Quinn offered politely, Santana forcing her eyes to meet the blonde's as she bit at the skin on her lip. "I didn't mean to bring up something like that-"

"Its fine," Santana snapped more fiercely than she meant, noticing Quinn lean her head back and scrambling to make amends. "I-no, sorry, that came out bad." She felt exposed as she sat in front of Quinn fumbling around for an explanation, wondering how big of a mess Quinn thought she was as she sighed.

"It's just weird to talk about, still a little hard," Santana explained. "It's not like I'm still madly in love or something. The whole relationship was-she just wasn't who I thought she was, and it ended because of that. She wasn't-_isn't_ someone I need to be with, she's not someone I want to be with, and I'm glad I know that now, but the way I found that out was excruciating. It still resonates." Quinn listened as Santana found her way through her thoughts, finally putting into words the way she'd been feeling.

"It's like, even though I'm over her, it still hurts to think about how it all ended, having all that time and trust and care I gave just abused and thrown away. I used to get pissed when I thought about it, but I think now I'm just in a place where I'm so tired of being run down by it. I'm ready to move on. I'm ready to, I just need to get my heart to match my head." Santana sat with her thoughts for another minute longer, waiting to see what else would surface and realizing there wasn't anything else she wanted, or really needed, to say.

"That's a hard thing," Quinn said softly as she tilted her head. "I mean break ups are hard, sure, but when they come after that long of a time I can imagine that alters you." Santana didn't say anything, just gave Quinn a crooked smile before clearing her throat and trying to shift the topic back.

"Yeah, it was-anyways, I didn't mean to get totally off track."

"It's fine, really," Quinn spoke up. "It's nice. Not the whole heart shattering thing," she corrected quickly. "Just that you can talk about it to me. I feel worthy."

"Well don't get too carried away," Santana said as she changed her tone, trying to lighten the mood again as she pointed her finger. "I'll start opening up about my childhood."

"Oh, I love it when you talk dirty," Quinn teased, Santana staring wide eyed as the blonde moved to sit on her knees.

"Yeah? You like that, huh?" Santana played along, Quinn nodding as she fought back a smile. "I'm talking deep stuff here Blondie, old wounds from the playground, real hard shit."

"God you know just what to say," Quinn said lowly, her voice barely above a whisper as she teased Santana.

"I mean where to begin," Santana said as she threw a hand up, shaking her head as she spouted off the first few memories that came to her. "I mean there was the time I got left alone in the Winn Dixie, my first spanking."

"Mmm, don't stop," Quinn cooed as she closed her eyes, Santana leaning closer as she went on.

"All the times I ran away from home with my Care Bear in tow, the Christmas I pulled our tree down."

"Santana, yes," Quinn gasped playfully, the brunette caught off guard by the sensual tone as she choked on her spit. "Don't stop."

"The time I got my period at the public pool, when I kicked myself during cheer-leading practice-"

"Wait, you were a cheerleader?" Quinn asked as she snapped out of their game, Santana caught off guard as she shook her head. "Me too!"

"Really?" Santana asked, trying to regroup and catch up as Quinn's smile widened. "You don't seem…the type?"

"4 years at Beekman," Quinn informed her proudly. "We were the Bee's, fittingly. A joke, but it fit. I was the only freshman in the history of Beekman to make the team. Of course, that's because it's a private school...and didn't have a cheer-leading squad before then...and we only cheered for the chess club. But still."

"Wow, go figure," Santana chuckled. "A blonde cheer-leading private school rich girl. You're a Republican's wet dream."

"I take offense to that!" Quinn squealed, grabbing a pillow from behind Santana and hitting her with it.

"You totally should," Santana agreed.

"Anyways, I got way sidetracked," Quinn said as she grabbed her wine glass. "So, back to my original question about you and Puck; you guys are just friends, no weirdness?"

"Oh there's weirdness," Santana said in a low tone, staring at a source of recent tension drink from her wine glass. "That's not because we dated though. It's because we've known each other way too long and way too intimately. We took each other's virginities and he shaved my legs when I pulled my back. Hell he's peed while we've showered together for Christ's sake." At that bit of information Quinn snorted into her wine, Santana reaching out to check on her as she laughed.

"Are you ok?" the brunette asked, Quinn waving her off as she wiped her mouth.

"There's just no way to prepare yourself for that kind of information," Quinn said as she cleared her throat, Santana shrugging lightly before adjusting her legs.

"Well that's…us. It's how we are, how we've always been. It works, not great most days, but it works." Quinn nodded as she set her wine glass down, Santana briefly wondering why she was so interested before speaking again. "What about you and your roommate? Any steamy moments?"

"Well seeing as he's gay, no," Quinn sighed as she feigned sadness. "We do cuddle during Lifetime movie marathons though."

"Woah, watch out," Santana said as she raised her hands, taking a moment to study Quinn as the blonde giggled.

It felt natural, just her and Quinn hanging out, Santana not having any tense nerves or feeling awkward. The fact that Puck, being Puck, sprung the whole thing suddenly without giving her time to panic had actually worked out, the time Santana would have spent over thinking going into enjoying the dinner.

She'd never really been the kind of person who got butterflies to start with, briefly recalling nausea and anxiety when she first realized she had a crush on Brittany. Though in retrospect, she was also having to come to terms with being gay, coming out, and the possible rejection Brittany may have laid on her (she did eventually, just waited a nice six years to cushion the blow), never really having the experience of what a normal crush felt like. She certainly hadn't experienced it after the train wreck that was her relationship with Brittany, cautiously and meticulously avoiding relationships or anything that appeared in the shape of them afterwards. She wondered if maybe her new feelings for Quinn was some cosmic work in motion, or perhaps she'd been ready, or maybe the blonde was just in the right place at the right time, whatever the reason, she'd fallen into a comfortable rhythm with Quinn and she liked it.

She shifted her eyes to Quinn's and smiled when the blonde flashed her a grin, wondering what Quinn was thinking about right now, what she thought about period. Her neighbor who always smelled like vanilla was still a mystery, the mellow woman relaxing in front of her nowhere near the girl she'd painted from her past. She had a million questions she wanted answered and, seeing as she'd let Quinn into her life, finally had the perfect moment to ask them, Santana getting 'some balls about her' as her dad always said and deciding to ask.

"So what about you?" she began, breaking the lull of silence between them as she spoke up.

"What about me?" Quinn asked back, Santana shrugging as she tried to seem casual.

"I mean, what about your romantic rendezvous'? You know about mine, now let's hear about yours Blondie." Santana wondered if her prodding had come across as cavalier, biting down on her lip as she hoped to figure out if Quinn had a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Whatever.

"I don't really have any to be honest," Quinn answered. "I mean I wasn't allowed to date in high school, dad's rule. I went on a few dates in college but I realized I'm just not a dater."

"What do you mean?" Santana asked, feeling a bubble of fear float through her stomach as Quinn went on.

"I just-I'm not one to go on blind dates or get set up with friends of friends. Dating is just a strange concept to me, always feels like being interviewed for a job position. There isn't anything organic about it."

"So then how do you go about wooing potential romantic interests Ms. Fabray?" Santana asked, not yet feeling the sinking of disappointment as Quinn thought about her answer.

"I just think it should be about getting to know someone naturally. Meeting someone, spending time together without the pressure of scoring another date or getting to second base hanging overhead. It should be about sharing yourself with another person and seeing if there's a connection." Santana had to fight back her urge to scream _'Like we are right now?!_' but she managed to squash the desire.

"I agree with that," Santana added to the conversation, trying to find a safe reply that didn't reek of any personal bias towards their current setting.

"I mean I've only really had one relationship, and it was about as serious as college freshmen could be," she chuckled, Santana's proverbial antennas sounding off as she sat up.

"Yeah?" she asked, Quinn making a face as she reached for the blanket resting on the arm rest of the couch. "How long did you guys last?"

"Maybe a year?" Quinn guessed, pulling the blanket up around her chest as she rested her head against the couch. "It was a set up by my dad. The kid of a friend from their country club, blah, blah, blah."

"You're like the protagonist in a Nicholas Sparks movie," Santana said flatly, Quinn closing her eyes and hiding her face behind her hand. "I mean you _were_, excuse me."

"Well thank you for noticing," Quinn perked back up.

"You know, you keep talking about your family and high school and being a cheerleader who dated heirs of country clubs," Santana began. "But I don't see it. Not that I'm complaining, I just can't place you in that world."

"Because I didn't want to be in that world," Quinn said softly, pulling the blanket up to her chin as if to shield herself.

"Why?" Quinn took a moment to think as she twirled the tassels of the blanket through her fingertips, shifting her eyes up towards the ceiling as she spoke.

"I just never felt happy. I know, surrounded by money, who couldn't be happy?" Quinn said as she rolled her eyes, Santana feeling a sting as she recalled her own comments from their prior conversations. "But it was all just too much, too fake, too sad. Going to all these ridiculous events, wearing overpriced clothes, meeting all these pre-packaged people who were pretending to be overly happy and were all secretly miserable. I grew up with no clue of my own identity because it changed so often depending on who I was being shuffled to meet or impress." Santana watched Quinn pick at her nails before biting one, the blonde sucking at her manicure before realizing what she was doing and jerking her hand down. Santana wondered if that was something Quinn had been conditioned to do as a kid, the image of a small blonde in a big dress bringing the girl in front of her into a new light.

"My parents were such frauds, you know? How parents can be," Quinn asked without waiting for any answer. "Watching them was how I knew what a scam everything was. Anytime we went out they looked like perfection, smiling and cooing. But the minute we got home it was all ugliness and screaming. I started noticing the same smiles at school and in college, and anywhere I went for the matter. I could just see how things were supposed to be for me and I couldn't run away fast enough." Santana watched Quinn grow quiet as she got lost in her thoughts, wanting to say something but having no grasp on what.

The conversation was a turning point for Santana, her idealized and romanticized version of Quinn becoming real. She wasn't just some cute girl next door but a real woman with just as many dark spots as Santana, her ease at revealing them something Santana admired. The brunette had always been afraid to expose her inner workings and now here was this person she'd been captivated by, doing just that, and making her realize that she wasn't a mess, just human. She'd been afraid that peeling back her edges would chase someone away and yet here she sat, more enthralled in Quinn than ever before, wishing she could find some way of expressing herself.

"So now I'm figuring things out," Quinn finally smiled, her eyes meeting Santana's as she sighed. "Piecing together who I am and what I want. It changes day to day, I change day to day, but I think that's ok."

"I think that's what your twenties are for," Santana agreed. "And if not then we're fucked." At that Quinn laughed, pushing the blanket down as she pulled her arms out to rest in her lap. "Sorry, I'm not trying to sweep over or undermine what you said."

"No, I know," Quinn assured as she shoved a chunk of hair behind her ear. "I just didn't mean to go there. I usually save my emotional baggage for the 3rd or 4th date." With that she grabbed her glass and plate, standing as she walked towards the kitchen and left Santana reeling with the idea that _oh my God she said this was a date._

Santana was aware of how she was cheapening what was just a frank and emotional conversation with Quinn by going gaga over what was probably a throw away comment but she couldn't stop, suddenly analyzing anything Quinn said that evening as she tried to find points to support her theory that Quinn Fabray insinuated they were on what had to be the weirdest probably-not-even-a-date in history.

"If you wanna bring me those plates and the pan, I can help you with these," Quinn called from her place behind the sink. "I see your name next to dishes and a sticker. I'm assuming that means you're responsible?" Santana managed to nod as she gathered up the plates and pan, heading dazedly to join Quinn. "Cute chart by the way."

"Thanks," the brunette got out, blinking her eyes as she yanked herself back to reality. "Its Puck's attempt at being a better roommate." Quinn nodded as she handed Santana a sponge, squeezing out a dollop of dish soap before assembling her own.

"Kurt and I don't have any system," Quinn explained as she drove her sponge into the pot Puck had boiled the noodles in, moving her hands around the metal expertly as she scrubbed away stuck on noodles. "We don't really cook though."

"No? Figured you'd make all kinds of extravagant meals," Santana piped up, her hand disappearing inside the sauce pan as she met Quinn's eyes.

"Believe it or not, I am actually a terrible cook," Quinn informed her, Santana's face contorting as Quinn nodded.

"How does that even happen?" Santana asked, Quinn shrugging as she sighed.

"I can make a soufflé rise, bake the softest cookies, and keep caramel sauce from hardening, but ask me how to tell when noodles are done or when chicken is ready and I'm hopeless." Santana laughed as she and Quinn continued to go back and forth, the dishes done and kitchen picked up before Santana knew it. The two of them had hopped up on the kitchen counter as they decided to finish off the last of Quinn's cookies, sharing horror stories of lessons learned from living on their own for the first time.

"…so now he has a bunch of pink shirts," Quinn giggled as Santana listened. "I mean luckily I've gotten way better, and Kurt was a good sport, but it was terrible." She rested her hands on her knees, swinging her feet back and forth as her sandals tapped against the counter.

"Well, from being someone who never washed clothes before, I think that's forgivable," Santana comforted, Quinn meeting her eyes as she smiled.

"Thanks," Quinn said as she nudged Santana's shoulder with her own. She looked around Santana's kitchen, her eyes scanning over different appliances and decorations before they landed on the clock of the stove. "Crap, I didn't realize it was so late. Or early." Santana followed her gaze and saw the 4:03 illuminating the clock face, realizing she'd have to be up in three hours and trying to figure out if going to sleep was even worth it.

"Well my sleep schedule is screwed, thanks Blondie," she pretended to snap as she kneed Quinn, the blonde placing a hand over her chest as she pretended to be appalled.

"Hey, I have to work too!" she shot back. "Those cakes don't bake themselves." Santana watched as Quinn slid off the counter top, adjusting her dress again as she clicked her sandals against her feet. "Though I will say I had a lot of fun."

"Same," Santana agreed, Quinn grabbing her small purse as her dress swayed against her legs.

"Maybe next time you can come over to my place to keep me up?" Quinn proposed, Santana moving her eyes from the blonde's legs to her eyes. "You can cook, I'll bake?" Santana felt a swelling of bliss spread throughout her chest, the warmth stretching to her fingers and toes.

"I think I can swing that," she played off as casually as she could, Quinn's grin stretching out wider as she bit her bottom lip.

"Great." A moment of silence fell between them, Santana's frame coursing with energy as she watched Quinn remove her apartment keys from her purse. "Well, I'll see you later then Ms. Lopez." Santana wasn't ready for her to leave, aware of the night's finite time limit but searching for anything to stall its inevitable ending.

"Oh, how rude of me," Santana snapped suddenly as a thought came to her and she sprung off the counter, Quinn's eyes widening in surprise as she watched the brunette motion towards the door. "I need to make sure you get home safely, of course." Quinn laughed as Santana walked her to the door, opening it before taking the whole three steps across the hall.

"Thank you."

"Any time," Santana nodded as she shoved her hands in the pocket of her uniform, Quinn sticking her apartment key in her door as she turned her knob. "I'll see you later, Blondie."

Quinn halted her movements as she shifted her gaze, her head tilted as her green eyes studied Santana's own. The moment was reminiscent of the all too painfully vivid one they shared at Puck's party, Santana feeling goose bumps rise on her skin as she recalled Quinn's similar expression. There wasn't any loud party goers this time however, no thumping music, drunk screaming, or cosmically conveniently timed Puck to interrupt, the stillness of the hallway finally allowing Quinn to lean in to Santana and place her lips against the brunettes.

Her mouth against Santana's was a rash sensation, Quinn's soft lips pressing into Santana's chapped ones and causing an electric charge that jolted Santana in her spot. Her body was frozen as everything else inside of her pinged, flipped, and fluttered, her mind coming to a blotchy lull as her heart thudded rapidly in her ears.

Sparks, fireworks, chemical reactions; Santana wasn't one for overly clichéd metaphors but in that brief moment they were the only things that sort of but not really described the way Quinn's kiss felt, Santana's lips now itching with excitement as she pressed them back into the blonde's. Quinn moved her hand to lightly squeeze Santana's elbow as she leaned into her, her thumb nail pushing up the sagging sleeve of Santana's uniform and sending a shiver up the brunette's heated skin. The friction caused Santana to deepen the kiss as she readjusted her mouth against Quinn's, the blonde moving her own bottom lip as she took in more of Santana's mouth.

The whole thing was over before it began, Santana barely having time to savor that Quinn's mouth had been on hers before the blonde had pulled away. Her brown eyes were still closed and lips now itching as the cool air replaced the spot where Quinn's warm lips had been, Santana lazily opening her eyes to see Quinn sharing the same look of hazy satisfaction.

"Goodnight Santana," she got out lowly, her voice cracking as she smiled.

"'Night Quinn," Santana replied, still stuck in her spot as Quinn closed the door.

She stood frozen in her spot a moment longer, moving her fingers to her mouth as she ran the pads of her fingertips over where Quinn's lips once were. Her mind raced with all sorts of new ideas and fantasies as she spread her lips into a smile, finally moving back to her apartment as she went inside and crawled into bed with a feeling that New York was finally on her side.


	6. Chapter 6

_Could this be out of line? Could this be out of line?_

_To say you're the only one breaking me down like this_

_You're the only one I would take a shot on_

_Keep me hanging on so contagiously_

- Acceptance

* * *

><p>Santana's alarm blared as her clock struck 7, the brunette reaching over as she hit the off button. She'd never gone to sleep after her evening with Quinn, replaying the kiss over again in her head like a schoolgirl as she smiled into her comforter.<p>

In retrospect, the entire thing played out like a romcom in her mind, the girl with the troubled past realizing she can have feelings again after meeting a mystery of a girl. She could see what a cliché she had gotten herself into and yet she didn't care, her smile still plastered stupidly on her face.

She thought about how her feelings for Quinn had merely started as in interest in the pretty blonde who had brought her cookies, the entire thing having swallowed her whole as it developed into real feelings. She remembered back to Puck's party when she had wondered if Quinn had liked or wanted to kiss her and snorted at how she had an answer now, the progression of their meetings feeling like a story she'd hear from her parents, about some couple they'd known who'd _'been together ever since'_ or were _'still together today'_. She could also hear her mother's concerned voice filling her head now, asking her if she was sure and if she was moving too fast, her mom's anxiety levels over her daughter having skyrocketed after her breakup with Brittany and abrupt move to New York.

Her mom would do what she had done when Santana first began dating Puck and Brittany, asking if she really, really wanted to be with them or just wanted to be with someone, moving into her speech about how she'd known Santana's dad was the one and how she shouldn't compromise. Her mom would also probably wrinkle her nose at the fact that Santana hadn't exactly known Quinn very long either, the idea that she'd already kissed her something that even surprised her a little. No, it was true, she hadn't known Quinn for an extended amount of time but the time she had spent with her was meaningful and filled with conversations that helped them build a trust in one another, Santana feeling like she'd finally found a true friend, and maybe more, in the city.

Santana wondered momentarily if the whole 'when the time is right' mantra could be real. To be honest it wasn't that the moment was perfect for her, her job was still a dud and her apartment wasn't fully unpacked. And while certain parts of her weren't as polished as she'd like for them to be Santana was starting to find herself growing more comfortable with her surroundings, still anxious about making ends meet but busting her ass to keep afloat.

She could hear Puck moving around in the kitchen and kicked her blankets back as she decided to join him, having already mapped out precisely how she would inform him of what he had missed on the latest episode of Apartment 7B. She stepped into her leopard slippers and threw on her robe, opening her bedroom door as the smell of eggs filled her nostrils.

"You're taking this better roommate gig seriously aren't you?" she called out, sliding her feet against the floor as she headed for the kitchen. "I could totally-"

"Good morning Santana," Rachel squealed from her place behind the stove, Santana's face falling as she watched the bubbly brunette flip an egg. "It is so great to see you again." Santana shifted her eyes from Rachel to Puck who was relaxing in his pajama bottoms with his feet up on their coffee table, drinking God knows what from a mug as he read from a _Men's Health Journal_ magazine.

"Puck," Santana said lowly, her roommate shifting his eyes to meet hers as he smiled.

"Mornin' Sunshine, how'd you sleep?" he asked cheerfully, tossing his magazine on the couch as he moved to stand.

"Great, and you? Oh wait, let me guess," Santana said flatly, tilting her head to the left of Puck's body as her eyes landed on Rachel, who was now whisking some sort of batter in a bright blue bowl as she hummed.

"Yeah, what can I say, I like her crazy," he shrugged, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pajama pants as he smirked. "The chattering is sexy. Even sexier when I make it turn into a moan." Santana rolled her eyes as she turned back around, deciding to forgo breakfast and heading to the bathroom as she grabbed her toothbrush.

"So I'm guessing that means your first day-night at work went well?" Santana asked as she squeezed toothpaste on to her toothbrush, Puck following her into their bathroom and turning on the water for her as he hopped up on the bathroom counter.

"Oh my God, it was awesome," he went on, Santana shoving the brush in her mouth as she listened. "I got to meet so many people, including some of the actors from _Saturday Night Live_!"

"'eally? Who?" Santana asked through a mouthful of toothpaste, pausing her brush as she listened.

"I mean I don't know, no one super important, but it's still a pretty cool thing to tell people," he explained, Santana shaking her head as she resumed brushing her teeth. "And I got to toss out this real douchebag of a guy. He kept shoving people on the dance floor so Sam told me to get rid of 'em. Shoved him into a fire hydrant, it was hilarious!" Santana raised her brows as she feigned amusement, spitting a wad of foamy toothpaste in the sink before cupping a handful of water to swirl around her mouth. "I love it. Anyways, how was dinner?"

"Good," Santana answered after she spit the water from her mouth, turning off her sink as she grabbed a rag to wipe her mouth on. "Great, actually."

"Quinn say anything about me?" Puck asked as a devious grin spread across his cheeks, Santana furrowing her brow as she tossed the rag down.

"Why? Don't you have something going on with Squeaks in there?" she questioned, Puck now matching her confused face before shaking his head.

"No, I mean we've hooked up, but I told you it was nothing."

"Puck she's cooked you breakfast twice now and organized our dishes," Santana said as she grabbed her hairbrush. "Hell she even re-folded the clothes you shoved in the bookcase for Christ's sakes, something that would send any sane woman running. I'm telling you, it's definitely _not_ nothing."

"Well, it's not something to me," Puck said casually, Santana scoffing as she yanked her brush through her hair. "What?"

"Your ability to be an utter pig never ceases to amaze me is all," Santana sighed, Puck hopping off the bathroom counter as he waved her off.

"This from the girl who used to help me score in high school and college," Puck shot back, Santana noting the truth in his statement as she turned to offer her defense.

"I was young, confused."

"Right," Puck nodded as he squinted. "You're still so hung up in how it worked in Lima. This is New York, 'Tana, people don't do relationships and shit."

"Don't project your gross and wildly inaccurate beliefs on me and New York," Santana said as she tugged at a particularly tight knot. "This is all gonna bite you in the ass, just wait."

"And since when did you become such a believer in karma?" Puck inquired skeptically, crossing his arms as he watched Santana brush out the rest of her hair in the mirror.

"Since…now," Santana smiled, tossing her hairbrush down and turning around to face Puck.

"You seem to be in a good mood finally," he noted, eyeing Santana as he tilted his head up. "You finally rub one out?"

"Get away from me," Santana dismissed as she pushed him back, Puck chuckling at himself as he followed her into her room. "Shouldn't you be having breakfast with Mrs. Beaver?"

"Don't change the subject," Puck went on as he plopped himself down on her bed, Santana ignoring his childish giggles as she began pulling off her pajamas. "You totally flicked your bean last night. I can tell." Santana could only shake her head as she pulled on her uniform, Puck staring at her in amusement as he waited for her to reply.

For someone who could be so smart, sometimes Puck was a total fucking idiot, Santana wondering how he had yet to piece anything together. She then realized that he probably didn't think anything had happened because he didn't see Santana as someone Quinn would be interested, Puck having a way of underestimating and undermining her.

"I mean I'm not judging, it's about time you released some of that pent up tension," Puck went on as he fluffed one of her pillows, Santana looping the belt around her waist as she tried to tighten the uniform to fit.

"You know what, you're right Puck," Santana finally sighed, dropping her hands to her side as she nodded. "I did, I fucked myself last night, right here in this bed. Came so hard you wouldn't believe it." Puck's jaw dropped as he watched Santana walk towards him slowly, a smirk spreading on her face as she swayed.

"You-yeah?" Puck asked eagerly, Santana sitting beside him as she continued to, unbeknownst to him, taunt him. "How hard?"

"Oh my God," Santana whispered as she rested a hand to her chest, Puck pushing himself up a little as he swallowed. "It was…_incredible_."

"What'd you think about?" Puck asked excitedly, Santana fighting back an urge to laugh in his face as she bit her lip.

"Well…" she trailed off, running a hand up her leg as she teased him. "You know…"

"I don't, tell me," he insisted, Puck getting riled up as he watched Santana's hand push up the hem of her uniform. "Slowly. In detail." Santana leaned in closer to Puck as she licked her lips, her roommates pupils dilating as she brushed the tip of her nose against his.

"You," she said in a whisper, Puck's eyes growing dark as he stared at her mouth. "And then…"

"And then?" he asked in a rasp, Santana pressing her forehead to his as she released a giggle.

"And then-I remembered what a fucking dickbag you were and I immediately lost the potential to keep any hard on I may have had for the next year." Santana smacked Puck's cheeks twice as she sprung off her bed, moving to her bedroom door to slide in her shoes as she left Puck reeling on her bed.

"You're fucking evil, you know that?" he spat, Santana flashing him a look of satisfaction before heading out the bedroom door.

"Bye Santana! I hope you have a great day!" Rachel called as she waved the spatula in her hand ecstatically at the brunette, Santana giving her a head nod before making her way towards the door and closing it behind her.

She stopped momentarily to shove her keys, phone, and wallet into her apron, about to look up when a white box by her foot stopped her. She carefully picked it up, the yellow and silver ribbon that tied it together holding a small, lace edged card. Santana balanced the box on her hip and slid the card out, flicking it open with her free hand and smiling immediately as she read the loopy handwriting.

_Thanks again for dinner. Maybe at my place next time? Blondie._

Santana could feel her cheeks flush and didn't even bother to try to rub it away, holding the card between her pinky and ring finger as she tried to open the box to see what magical dessert lay inside. She managed to slide the ribbon off and flip the lid open, moaning in delight as she saw an assortment of cheesecake squares meet her gaze. Strawberry streusel, New York style, Turtle with sugar coated pecans, Oreo truffle, and coconut covered chocolate cheesecakes stared back at her, Santana's eyes widening and mouth instantly drooling as she looked over the delicate desserts.

"Well, well, well, you must be Santana." Santana jerked her head up at the sound of the high pitched but smooth voice, a pale faced man around her age resting against Quinn's door frame. His slender arms were crossed over a maroon sweater and one leg was bent as he flashed her smile, his hair perfectly coiffed and lips pink as he up and downed her. "About time I got to meet you."

"You're…Kurt," Santana said as she racked her brain, recalling Quinn mentioning a roommate as she took a shot. "Right?"

"The one and only," the guy smiled as he broke his stance, moving towards her as he stuck a smooth hand out. "I'm assuming Quinn mentioned me? She sure has mentioned you."

"Really?" Santana inquired, shaking his hand back as she smiled. "Well, I'm flattered."

"You should be, trust me," Kurt winked, moving back to his side of the hallway as he nodded to the box. "Cheesecakes, huh? She must _really_ like you."

"Yeah?" Santana asked as she looked down into the box, taking in his words and feeling her stomach flutter. "I hope so. Is she at…"

"Work, always bright and early," Kurt informed her, now digging around in the messenger bag he was holding as he grabbed his keys. "But she's usually back around 5ish. For future reference."

"Thanks," Santana said, tapping her fingers against the box as a thought came to her. "Hey, you wouldn't be able to tell me what bakery she works at, would you?"

"I could," Kurt smiled, sliding his own keys into the door as he turned the knob. "But it'll cost you."

"Ok…" Santana trailed off, not familiar enough with Quinn's roommate to know if he was playing or not. "How much?"

"One of those cheesecake squares," Kurt informed her, Santana sighing as she smiled. "Those things are to die for and she hardly ever makes them."

"Oh, sure," Santana nodded, sticking the box out as Kurt fiddled his fingers over them. He hummed to himself before choosing a chocolate cheesecake square covered in chocolate chips, taking a bite and groaning in satisfaction.

"I swear, these things are like crack," he got out between chews, covering his mouth as he talked.

"Heard that," Santana smiled, pulling the box back as she closed the lid.

"Mmm, my God, it's…" he trailed off as he took another bite, losing himself momentarily before realizing Santana was watching. "Oh, right, this is the part where I trade information." He nodded as he wiped a chocolate chip from the corner of his mouth, clearing his throat as he regained his sly air of mystery. "The place is called Curly Sue's, right across from the Nom Wah Tea Parlor."

"Thanks Kurt," Santana smiled as she nodded, sliding the box under her arm as she headed for the stairs.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Santana," Kurt said as he waved a few fingers. "Hopefully we'll meet again soon."

* * *

><p><em>"Do you know where I put my keys? I thought I put them on that hook thing you put by the door, but they aren't there. You think Rachel took them? Shit."<em>

Santana rolled her eyes as she finished playing her missed voice-mails, one coming from her mother and the other three from Puck who had chronicled his journey to find his apartment keys.

She'd just gotten off work, half an hour early much to her delight due to a slow afternoon, and was now making her way through Chinatown, passing by numerous brightly colored signs and advertisements as she searched for Curly Sue's Bakery. She didn't know exactly what her plan of action was but she knew she wanted to see the blonde who had kissed her last night, her stomach rolling over as her pace quickened.

A few more minutes and the delicate sign of Nom Wah Tea Parlor caught her eye, Santana looking across the street in search for the bakery. She scanned the shops until a black sign with white cursive lettering caught her eye, Santana stopping as she read the sign.

_"Curly Sue's Bakery."_ And below; _"Home of the Tastiest Tarts this Side of Town!"_

Santana smiled as she shoved her hands in the pocket of her uniform, checking the street both ways before jogging across. She checked her hair in the reflection of the window and adjusted her uniform before tugging open the door to the bakery, warm air rushing against her cheeks as she stepped inside.

The minute Santana stepped inside she immediately felt out of place, scanning the décor around her and wishing nothing more than to disappear behind it. Deep purple walls held black, delicate, vintage mirrors and finely trimmed wall sconces, the large chandelier from above giving the room a romantic, elegant feel. Old black and white pictures of Paris, London, and Rome adorned the walls, their frames matching the mirrors. The small tables were all glass tops with white linen covered chairs that were belted with black, lace ribbons, an assortment of purple tulips resting in glass vases on each table. Soft, melancholy music played from an antique record player that rested beside a display case of awards and pictures, this bakery unlike any Santana had ever seen or heard of. Even the trash bins were beautiful, the black, shiny metal matching perfectly with everything else in the bakery, Santana wondering why she hadn't thought to go home and change.

She heard the door open again from behind her and stepped to the side to let another visitor in as she tried to hide herself behind a trash bin, avoiding eye contact as she stared down at her scuffed shoes. She could hear people behind the counter ahead of her calling back and forth for various pastries and coffee drinks, the tinkle of a certain sweet voice causing her to look up.

"…the scones are baked fresh daily, yes ma'am," Quinn was explaining with a smile, bending down behind a display case as she watched a customer point at various sugary sweets. Her long, blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and the black shirt she wore with the logo of the bakery on the chest was dusted in flour, Santana smiling a little as she watched Quinn now discuss Danishes with the customer.

She wasn't sure how or what exactly she expected to happen between them now, Santana having spent the day chewing her fingernails off as she thought about kissing Quinn. She knew it meant Quinn was interested, obviously, and that there was chemistry, abso-fucking-lutely, but Santana was stuck on what to do next. She was also battling with herself at how utterly flushed the whole thing was making her, unaware that a 22 year old could still get giddy about a girl, much less actually use the term giddy.

"Can I help you? Ms.?" Santana's attention was pulled away as a plump red-headed woman who'd been watching her curiously got her attention, Santana turning her head in the direction of the cashier's voice. "Hi, welcome to Curly Sue's! Can I help you with something particular?" Santana shook her head and waved politely, easing her way through the small tables and chairs as she crossed her arms against herself.

There was a small line forming, patrons with purple tissue wrapped treats waiting to be rung up. Santana carefully took her place in line, Quinn assisting each customer until she reached Santana. She still had her head in the display case when Santana reached her, re-organizing cupcakes before poking back up.

"Welcome to-hey!" she greeted Santana, her voice going an octave higher on the 'hey' as she smiled. "I'm surprised to see you."

"Well, I just had to come by and thank you for those cheesecake squares you left me," Santana replied, having already decided on an alibi on her walk over. "Which were killer, by the way. I maaaay have devoured them all at work."

"Well I'm glad," Quinn smiled, brushing a wisp of hair away as she grinned. "I was hoping you'd get to them before Puck demolished them."

"Oh yeah, those things didn't go back in the apartment," Santana reassured her, Quinn chuckling as she wiped her hands on her own apron. "Though I may have given one away to Kurt for the name of the bakery."

"Oh really? I'm surprised you didn't already know, seeing as, you know, you stalk me and all," Quinn teased, Santana shrugging as she threw her hands up.

"What can I say, I dropped the ball on this one," she sighed. "Though if I'd known it was so high class I would've thrown on something…not covered in French fry grease."

"Oh, don't worry about it," Quinn murmured, waving her hand at a framed picture of a carousel and rolling her eyes. "None of us are fancy enough. I think Susan forgets it's a bakery." She leaned beside the display case towards Santana and lowered her voice. "She's never even been to Paris. Her claim to fame is having a layover in the airport. That's it, that's all." Santana snorted at Quinn's confession, the blonde putting a finger to her lips as she leaned back behind the case.

A cough from behind Santana alerted her to the irritable customer who had not so patiently been awaiting his turn to select a baked good, Santana furrowing her brow as he bulged his eyes.

"Well listen, I'm gonna get off in a few, do you think you could hang out a couple more minutes until then?" Quinn asked as she noted the guy's behavior. "Maybe we could grab some coffee or something? We can go somewhere else, somewhere more…relaxed."

"Sure, yeah, I'd like that," Santana nodded eagerly, Quinn smiling in return before disappearing into the display rack.

"Here, try a blueberry muffin while you wait," she said, her voice growing louder as she rose back up and slid the blueberry speckled monstrosity to Santana across the counter. "Fresh from the oven."

"Thanks, how much?" Santana asked, shuffling in her apron as she grabbed her wallet.

"On the house," Quinn smiled, ignoring the scoff of the woman in front of Santana before moving to the next customer.

Santana took the muffin and slid out of line, trying not to feel the glaring eyes of other customers on her as she made her way to a small table. She still felt incredibly out of place but it hadn't seemed to phase Quinn, Santana breaking a piece of her muffin off and popping it into her mouth. She spent the next few minutes between moaning at her muffin and trying to hide the fact that she was moaning at her muffin, her eyes drifting around the bakery as she looked over the pictures and paintings in more details.

"So, how was it?" Quinn surprised her, the blonde sliding into the seat across from Santana as she tossed her purse onto the table. "The muffin?"

"Um, as delicious as everything else you've ever made me, are you surprised?" Santana asked, Quinn smiling as she reached over and pulled a piece off the chunk Santana had been unable to finish. "I mean really woman, I'm suspicious of what you put in them.

"Oh yeah?" Quinn asked as she widened her eyes, licking the tip of her finger as she nodded. "Think I'm secretly poisoning customers?"

"Not necessarily poisoning them," Santana corrected, shifting her legs as she tilted her head. "But maybe using some sort of secret ingredient to keep people addicted."

"Like Sarah Michelle Gellar in _Simply Irresistible_?" Quinn asked, Santana frowning as she shook her head. "What? You're telling me you haven't seen _Simply Irresistible_?"

"Sadly yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you," Santana admitted, Quinn sticking a hand out as she stared at Santana. "What? I'm not a baker, I don't frequently check out culinary classics."

"It's so much more than that," Quinn corrected, licking her lips as she launched into an explanation. "It's about this woman who inherits this restaurant, right? But she is awful at cooking and the place is kind of flailing, so…" Santana watched as Quinn gave her a synopsis of the film, watching as the blonde's eyes widened and expressions changed. She couldn't help but be entranced by the small details of Quinn's face, admiring the way a small wrinkle formed on the left corner of her mouth when she grinned or how the freckles on her nose squished together when she laughed.

"…and of course, they get together in the end," she finished, tapping her nails against the glass table top as she shrugged. "It's not too great of a film, I'll admit, but it's a guilty pleasure."

"I can see," Santana smiled, crumbling the corner of the muffin wrapper between her index finger and thumb as she thought of something to add. "Well maybe…maybe you should show it to me sometime?"

"I should," Quinn agreed, Santana casually asking and surprising her own self as she watched the girl across from her point a finger. "How about this; we save the coffee for another time and get some takeout? We could go back to my place and I can introduce you to Sean Patrick Flanery at his finest. Deal?"

"Totally, deal," Santana agreed, the two of them gathering their things as they headed for the exit.

"Bye Quinn, bye Quinn's friend," the red-head from earlier called, Quinn turning around as she waved back.

"This is Santana," she introduced, Santana waving quickly as she noticed other customers looking at her. "See ya."

"Nice to meet you, Santana, I'm Iris," Quinn's co-worker introduced.

"You too," Santana said politely, following Quinn's lead as they both exited.

The sky had grown darker as grey clouds swirled around, the low rumble of thunder greeting the girls as they stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Anything particular you're craving?" Quinn asked as they walked side by side, stepping around passersby as they headed East.

"Well you stuffed me full of muffin back there, Blondie," Santana sighed as she rested a hand on her bloated stomach. "But I can chow down in a little while on whatever we get. What about you?"

"Mmm, there's a really good Thai place a block or two away named Pongsri. They make the best Pad Kee Mao I think I've ever had."

"I don't understand any of what you just said to me, but I'm down," Santana shrugged, Quinn nudging her with her shoulder as they walked.

Santana and Quinn recalled their days as they walked through Chinatown, Santana making Quinn laugh as she recounted about how Pete the Pornstache got slapped by a customer and how she had accidentally tripped a rude customer. To her, the stories had seemed trivial and mundane, but Quinn seemed fascinated and actually interested to hear Santana talk, the pair still laughing as they stepped inside the small Thai restaurant. They placed an order and waited for a few minutes, Santana watching as lightning streaked across the sky. She saw people begin to quicken their pace as they jostled along the sidewalk, newspapers and umbrellas popping out suddenly as the clouds bottomed out.

"You don't happen to have an umbrella in there, do you?" Santana whispered in Quinn's ear, the blonde turning around from the cashier's booth as she followed Santana's gaze.

"Nope. I've got gum, sprinkles, and glue, but no umbrella," Quinn answered, a clap of thunder catching the attention of a couple at a table nearby.

"What is that, the Mary Poppins bag?" Santana asked with a snort, Quinn smacking her with it as she turned away.

"Hush. We'll just have to…run back to the apartment," Quinn shrugged, Santana glancing back out the window as another crack of lightening lit up the sky.

Their order came up and Quinn paid, the two of them turning to the door and bracing themselves as they watched the rain pound against the pavement.

"We're only…15 minutes away? We'll be fine," Quinn tried to reassure, gripping the handle of the plastic bag tightly as she looked over at Santana.

"Alright Blondie, let's do it." Santana opened the door as Quinn ran out, the rain immediately soaking into their clothes as they jogged carefully down the sidewalk. Both squealed and darted around small forming puddles as they headed for their apartments, Quinn reaching out to grab Santana's hand as she steered her through a crowd of poncho-cladded strangers.

"This was an awful idea!" Santana shouted as she kept her eyes on the cement, Quinn releasing a laugh as she veered around a corner.

"What?" she called behind her, tightening her grip on Santana's hand as the rain beat down.

"I said…nevermind," Santana laughed as another roll of thunder cut her off, Quinn yanking her closer as they ran.

Another few minutes and the soaked pair emerged inside their building, their laughter and shrieks echoing out into the grey lobby as they squeakily stepped inside.

"Well, that was refreshing," Santana spoke up through shivering wet lips, moving her free hand to her hair as she tried her best to fix it.

"Yeah," Quinn got out through chattering teeth, her pony tail flattened to her back as the take out squeaked against her leg. "Come on, I've got towels we can bundle up in." The two made their way upstairs, dripping drops of water on the wooden stairs and leaving a trail behind them as they trekked up the flights of stairs. Santana wondered what she'd say if she saw Puck coming down, snorting to herself as she realized he'd be too preoccupied with a wet, glistening Quinn to pay any mind. Santana herself was trying her best to keep her eyes on the stairs and not on Quinn's backside, the blonde's black slacks clinging to her frame and shaking enticingly with each stair she climbed.

Blaring music pumped from behind Santana's apartment door as they reached the landing, Quinn turning around to Santana as she flashed her a confused face.

"Puck," was all Santana muttered as she waved a hand, Quinn taking the answer with a head nod as they reached her door.

"I've got some sweat pants and t-shirts that should fit," Quinn spoke as she flicked through her keys, Santana taking her eyes off her own apartment door as she focused on her companion. "I mean, unless you wanna stay soaked, your call."

"Oh, no, I mean thank you but I can just go to my place really quick and change-"

"Don't be silly," Quinn interrupted, her eyes sparkling as she opened her door. "Besides, Puck will get a hold of you and I won't see you again." Santana didn't refute the statement as she followed behind Quinn, realizing she was, quite literally, stepping into Quinn's world as the blonde flicked on the lights.

The layout of Quinn, and Kurt's, apartment was identical to Santana and Puck's, a small hallway leading into a kitchen which was across from the living room. The feel and look however was much more comforting and homey, Santana instantly in love with the yellow walls and framed flowered paintings as she walked in.

The kitchen walls were a soft yellow with lacy white wallpaper, pictures of roosters and old vintage fruits hung about carefully. The cabinets had been painted white and decorated with delicate matching yellow flowers, Santana noting how organized and identical the china that rested inside them was. The kitchen counters were clean and covered in organized jars of sweets and candies, not beer bottles and old take out containers like Santana's. Fluffy yellow rugs rested throughout the kitchen and shiny copper pots and pans hung from the ceiling, Santana catching her warbled reflection in one and tugging at her hair again. Instead of forcing a kitchen table into their book nook Quinn and Kurt instead had an old white bookshelf stuffed full of what Santana knew had to be cookbooks and pages of recipes, a pretty vase of sunflowers resting on top next to a picture of what looked like Kurt and Quinn.

To the left rested their equally beautiful living room, the walls bearing the same brickwork as Santana's. Instead of hiding it behind a bulky bookcase though there were shelves of knick knacks and more picture frames, large curtains framing the floor length windows and giving it a warm feel. There was a faux fireplace just like Santana's but no boom box inside, white lights wrapped around tree branches lighting up the area as candles rested throughout. A TV was hung above the mantle and more white lights framed it, Santana in awe of every aspect of the apartment as she turned in a circle to take it all in.

"Come on in, make yourself comfy," Quinn said softly as she set the bag of takeout and her purse on the counter, pulling her shirt away from her stomach as she tugged it back and forth. Santana couldn't help but eye the strip of pale skin that flashed with every tug Quinn made, the blonde's taught, wet belly button playing peek a boo.

"Your apartment is amazing," Santana remarked as she forced her eyes on a picture of a watering can and swallowed hard, Quinn looking up as the brunette pretended to glance around. "I mean I can't even believe we live in the same building."

"It's all Kurt's doing really," Quinn played off, resting her hands on her hips as her eyes scanned across her kitchen. "I'm more of the organizer and he's more of the decorator. It works. I put the things where I need them to go and he makes them look good."

"You can send him to my place anytime," Santana mumbled, turning back to Quinn who was now sliding out of her shoes. She was bent over and leaning against her counter as she did so, Santana now suddenly grateful for the downpour.

"Come on this way, we can change and get comfortable," Quinn offered as her voice snapped Santana back, picking up her shoes and heading down the hallway. Santana followed, her eyes looking up and down every framed picture she saw as she took in every detail of Quinn she could.

"If you wanna tie your shoes together and toss them over the tub we can, maybe they'll dry a little while we eat," Quinn called out from her bedroom, Santana pulling her eyes from a picture of who she guessed were Quinn's parents as she hurried down the hall and into the bedroom.

Quinn's room was a cool blue, a stark contrast from the rest of the bright apartment as Santana noted the bare walls and plain white blanketed bed. There wasn't much around the room except a dresser and a small nightstand, two paint buckets and a brush resting atop it next to a beige lamp.

"Sorry the room's a mess, almost 3 months and I still can't decide on a color," Quinn said from her bathroom, a small sliver of light peeking through the cracked door. "Last month it was green, this month it's blue, next month it'll probably be purple again. I can't figure out what I want."

"Are you kidding, this is a palace compared to our…sty," Santana called back, Quinn chuckling as she emerged in a short white fluffy bathrobe with her hair down.

"Your apartment isn't anywhere near as awful as you think," she said softly, rubbing a red towel in her hair with one hand as she held a green one in the other. "It feels lived in. Our kitchen is almost identical to my mothers."

"Your mom has good taste," Santana smiled politely, Quinn looking off as she rose her brows. Santana recalled their conversation about Quinn's family and wondered if she'd rubbed the blonde the wrong way, Quinn speaking up again and cutting off Santana's thought process as she stepped forward.

"Here," she said as she tossed the towel she'd been using to dry her hair down, taking both hands and placing them on the edge of the larger green towel before wrapping it around Santana. "I don't have another robe, but this is the biggest towel man has ever made." She brought both ends together under Santana's chin and let the brunette catch them, Quinn moving her own hands to Santana's now covered arms as she rubbed up and down to create warmth. Santana felt simultaneously relaxed and tense, loving her proximity to Quinn but feeling anxious about what to do with her limbs.

"Thanks," Santana said softly as she noted Quinn leaning in to her, their foreheads bumping with every move of Quinn's arms. Santana had also noticed the top of Quinn's robe had loosened with her movements and saw a hint of glistening cleavage emerge, Santana licking her lips as her mouth went dry.

"Sure," the blonde smiled warmly as she caught Santana's eyes, the brunette noting the gold ring that ran around the green of Quinn's eyes as she felt her skin grow warmer. They kept eye contact for a moment before Quinn jerked her gaze elsewhere, her blonde hair falling into her face as she moved her hands. Santana noticed how Quinn kept diverting her eyes around the room, Santana feeling a jolt when they landed on her own again. Santana watched Quinn's eyes search her own as her arms slowed, Quinn blinking slowly as her lips parted.

"Santana, I," Quinn began in a whisper as she paused her hands on Santana's arms, Santana having wondered all day when and if they'd addressed their last moment together and now gearing up for what she hoped would be some sort of acknowledgment. "I..." Quinn seemed to struggle with her words as she chewed on her bottom lip, Santana not knowing what she should try to say as Quinn spoke up again. "I like you."

Santana didn't even try to fight the smile that stretched across her face, her body seeming to relax and spark all at once. It was the confirmation that she'd needed, the wheels that'd been turning over and over again in her head finally coming to a standstill as the rest of her body tingled with excitement. Not only did the girl in front of her have some sort of feelings for her, but Santana actually had them back, the dark pit inside her heart that she thought she would forever keep closed off actually opening up again. She was overjoyed and ecstatic, feeling overcome with a happiness that she hadn't felt in months. "And, you see..."

Without thinking, Santana moved a hand out from under the towel as she brought it up to Quinn's face. She rubbed her thumb over the apple of Quinn's cheek, the rest of her fingers sliding down to rest under Quinn's jaw. Santana didn't bother to speak or let Quinn finish, moving in to Quinn and pressing her lips against the blonde's.

Quinn reciprocated the kiss after a moment of being startled, it being the brunette's turn to take Quinn by surprise and doing so perfectly.

Quinn continued to sink her lips into Santana's as her hands gripped the brunette's arms, Santana in return moving her other hand up to Quinn's jaw and cupping her delicate face as she pulled her as close as she could get her. The towel that had been wrapped around Santana was dropped to the wayside as Santana's hands became preoccupied in Quinn, her wet frame fully open for Quinn's hands to explore. Both were still wet from the storm as their skin slid against each other's, Santana moving her hands down Quinn's neck as beads of water trailed down from her blonde, damp locks.

Santana pulled away momentarily, taking in Quinn's hooded, darkened eyes and red, swollen lips. It was then that the anxiety and fear she'd been lugging around for the past eight months was swallowed whole by a hunger Santana had forced herself to repress, lunging her mouth back into Quinn's as she sucked on the other girl's bottom lip.

The movement had caused Quinn to moan as it sent her backwards, their bodies clashing together as they haphazardly stumbled towards Quinn's bed. Quinn, who had slid her hands down to Santana's waist, was gripping at the still wet material of Santana's uniform, Santana's legs becoming more exposed and producing goose bumps as the uniform was tugged higher and higher.

Santana's legs had slid between Quinn's as she guided them to the bed, the two of them bumping into the edge before falling onto it. Santana paused their kiss to pull Quinn's body up to meet hers with her right hand as her left kept her body balanced, the shift pulling Quinn's robe open to expose the top of her chest.

"San," she moaned as she pulled away to catch her breath, Santana moving her mouth to Quinn's jawline as she peppered the soft skin with hot, hasty kisses. The hand she had used to move Quinn with had found its way up the blonde's thigh, Santana pushing up Quinn's robe and digging her nails into the tender flesh as Quinn's breath hitched. Santana's legs were still between Quinn's as her right knee rested firmly between Quinn's thighs, Santana inching it up higher as Quinn writhed beneath her.

For the first time in a longtime Santana didn't think, letting her desire drive her as she dug her mouth into Quinn's again. She wasn't worrying about what anything meant or the expectations or consequences, taking Quinn's hands on the buttons of her uniform as a sign that she wasn't either.

Quinn released a sharp breath as Santana's knee thudded against her clit accidentally, the blonde's hands tearing open Santana's uniform as the buttons scattered onto the comforter. Santana could have cared less about their demise as she moved her head from Quinn's mouth to her chest, inching towards the exposed skin of Quinn's chest before the blonde suddenly stopped her.

"Wait, wait," she panted, Santana immediately jerking back as she rested on her knees.

She took the moment to take in Quinn, the girl beneath her still gasping as she pulled her robe together. Her skin was streaked with red from where Santana had touched and kissed her, the brunette feeling a weird swell of desire before Quinn interrupted.

"San-"

"I didn't mean to-"

"No, listen-"

"I just-I got caught up-"

"Santana-"

"I haven't-"

"Shut up!" Quinn snapped, Santana halting as she widened her eyes. "Wait that came out harsh."

"It's ok," Santana snorted. "Kinda cute when you're snappy." Quinn shook her head as she sat up and Santana moved to sit beside her, neither speaking for a few moments as they caught their breath.

"I didn't want you to stop because I wanted you to stop," Quinn finally said as she tried to explain herself. "I wanted you to stop because I wanted you to keep going." Santana's eyebrows knitted together as she flashed a face of confusion, Quinn realizing her flawed explanation and closing her eyes to think. "I mean that-I mean-"

"I think I know what you're trying to say," Santana cut her off, moving her hand to rest on Quinn's knee.

"I just-I really do like you Santana," Quinn said softly, opening her eyes as she looked over at the girl next to her. "I've never really done this before. I mean I'm not exactly used to being the one who says something first."

"That's ok, I'm not exactly used to being the one who has something said to her first," Santana admitted, Quinn smiling as Santana smirked. "And I didn't mean to get…" Santana trailed off as she motioned to the bed, Quinn shaking her head as she leaned in.

"No, that was...yeah," Quinn breathed.

"It's just-I feel something that I didn't think I would ever get to feel again after Brittany," Santana confessed, saying Brittany's name and not feeling a twinge of hurt in her belly. "And I've been so lost, and it's like all of a sudden I feel good again, and I want as much of that good feeling as I can get my hands on. Literally." Quinn giggled as she pushed back a section of wet hair, resting her hand on top of Santana's as she bit her lip. "I don't usually kiss girls after seeing them a few times."

"No?" Quinn asked in a lighter tone. "That's not your usual?"

"Not the usual, no," Santana shook, the two of them chuckling to themselves as they rested on Quinn's bed.

"I get what you mean. I mean, different situations, but I understand," Quinn offered softly, Santana studying Quinn's face as the blonde spoke. "I'm still figuring out all these things about myself now that I'm on my own without anyone hovering over me or breathing down my neck about who or what I should do. And one thing I figured out, one of the only things, is that I like you, I like spending time with you, and how I feel with you. I just don't want to make a mess of it because I went too fast."

Santana nodded as she looked around, Quinn rubbing her index finger over Santana's knuckles as they sat together.

"Maybe we just take our time," Santana said finally, studying the way Quinn's skin looked against her own as she spoke. Quinn looked over as she scanned Santana's face, resting her chin on Santana's shoulder as she smiled. "Just...take it as it comes. Don't, you know-"

"Make out after hanging out a few times?"

"Exactly," Santana nodded, Quinn smirking as she tapped her toes against the bed frame.

"I think I can do that."

"Yeah?" Santana asked, Quinn nodding as she picked her head up.

"Yeah," she whispered back, both looking over each other's faces as they sat in silence. They kept eye contact for another moment before Quinn moved to stand, tightening her robe as she sighed.

"Well, you know after that, my appetite is roaring," she declared, Santana raising her brows as she stood.

"Roaring? What an adjective."

"I know," Quinn nodded. "So maybe we can check out that takeout? See how much is salvageable after the rain? See what happens after?"

"Sounds good," Santana agreed, moving to stand before stopping and realizing she was still in her soaked uniform.

"Right, sorry," Quinn noted, seeing Santana looking down at her outfit and pointing across the room. "There's sweats and pjs in the dresser, come join me when you're changed ok?" Quinn smiled, swaying her arms as she left the room.

Santana stood for a moment as she stared around the room, Quinn's ruffled, wet sheets confirming that the moment had actually happened. Not only had she spoken about Brittany and not felt that sting of rejection, but she and Quinn were moving forward. To where, Santana didn't know, but she was more than ready to find out.


	7. Chapter 7

_And all you'll hear is the music,_

_And beauty stands before you_

_And love comes back around again,_

_It's a carousel, my friend_

- Vanessa Carlton

* * *

><p>"I think I'm gonna wear the black one."<p>

"I'm telling you, the brown one looks so much better."

"Listen, I get that you're into me Blondie, but I'm interviewing for an intern position, not a role in one of your fantasies."

Quinn snorted on the other end of the line as she dismissed the brunette's accusation, Santana holding her cell between her ear and shoulder as she flicked through her wardrobe with a smirk.

August had rolled into September as the New York heat subsided and was replaced with breezy afternoons and red sunsets, the changing colors of the leaves bringing new fortune and opportunities for Santana. Not only had she received a small raise in pay but she'd also gotten promoted to a shift manager, now in charge of the 8:00 am to 4:00 pm crew workers and their scheduling. It had made her happy, no doubt, but it also put into perspective that she was still at the diner after being in New York a month, going out the next day to the advertising firm she'd checked out during her first visit to New York and applying for one of the spots in their internship program. Much to her delight, and surprise, she'd gotten a call back, sharing the news with Quinn who'd helped her celebrate with dinner and cupcakes that made Santana's eyes roll into the back of her skull.

Things had also been going great in the romance department as well, her and Quinn having spent more and more time together as they became more acquainted. They took turns taking the other out, Santana taking Quinn to places she'd wanted to visit off of the list she'd made back in Jersey and Quinn showing Santana parts of the city she'd never even heard of, falling more in love with the city as she grew more comfortable with its buildings and bustling groups of people. The two of them had yet to establish what they were, just enjoying each other's company as they learned about one another.

They'd, so far, managed to hold off on intimacy as they familiarized themselves with the ins and outs of each other, sharing soft kisses and warm embraces as they stuck to their word about taking things slow. There had of course been a few moments where they'd gotten carried away, heavy breathed and swollen lipped as they forced themselves apart. The two frequently spent their evenings together, Santana always meeting Quinn outside of the bakery as they walked together, always off to explore some part of the city before dragging their feet back to their apartments. Santana usually went to Quinn's for a little before forcing herself off of Quinn's couch, making her way back to her own place across the hall that she mainly visited for sleep now.

She and Puck had drifted during this time, her roommate usually on his way to work when she'd arrive home. They'd exchange hellos and speak briefly, both caught up in their own work and social lives, Santana having no idea what Puck had been up to but assuming it was another girl seeing as the couch remained made for several nights at a time. His absence hadn't left any other aspects of the apartment made up however, his dishes piled high in the sink and clothes balled up in the couch. His wordy promise of being a better roommate had fallen short in the action department, Santana no longer obligating herself to clean up his messes. The roommates were more like passing ships at sea than the friends who had moved in together just a month ago, Santana noting the distance but too caught up to mourn it.

"Well, either way, you'll look great," Quinn spoke again as Santana finally found her black pencil skirt, pulling it out and shaking it as she noted a few wrinkles. "What time does it start again?"

"9:00 am," Santana answered as she laid the skirt on her bed, walking into her bathroom for her straightener as she let out a deep breath. "And I get more and more nervous every time I look at the clock."

"Don't, you're gonna knock them out," Quinn encouraged, Santana smiling as she took the straightener back into her bedroom, plugging it in and turning it on as she listened to Quinn. "You're intelligent, driven, sharp, witty, determined, and a whole list of other wonderful adjectives, there isn't any way they could resist."

"Well don't stop there, keep going, please," Santana urged as she clamped her straightener together, having to use it to de-wrinkle her clothes since her nor Puck owned, or had bought, an iron. "I love having my ego stroked."

"Uh huh, I'm sure that's not the _only_ thing," Quinn said lowly, Santana noting the playfulness as her smile stretched wider.

"Quinn Fabray, are you trying to rile me up? So early in the morning?" Santana asked, Quinn giggling on the other end of the line before sighing.

"_Me_? No, never," she taunted as her voice went higher. "I'm a good girl, remember?"

"Good girl my ass you little tease," Santana said lowly, using the hot straightener to smooth out the wrinkles of her skirt. "I'm on to you, Fabray."

"Oh you wish you were," the blonde fired back, Santana sputtering for a second as the straightener veered onto the bed. She tried to think of something witty to say but could only blink, Quinn speaking up again as Santana grappled to finish ironing her skirt. "Now you go and get yourself that internship, and afterwards we'll celebrate. I'll let you do the teasing this time."

"Jesus," Santana breathed into the phone, hearing the smile in Quinn's voice as the blonde spoke.

"I'll take that as a yes. Good luck today! I'll see you after!" The call ended and Santana stood with her phone in hand for another moment, thinking about Quinn and realizing there was an entirely different side to the girl she'd yet to learn about but _oh my God_ she couldn't wait.

Santana finished getting ready and headed out the door, noticing the empty couch again before leaving the apartment. She bounded down the flights of stairs happily, excited to see what would happen next but nervous at the thought of having to sell herself.

She exited the building and headed for the subway, her heels clicking loudly against the pavement as she walked. Santana had taken the day off from the diner, in hopes that'd she'd be given good news and have to spend the day filling out paperwork or heading to HR, already planning that if all else failed she'd instead spend the day pampering herself to cheer up.

To say she'd been surprised to get a callback would be an understatement, Santana's impending interview one that had terrified her for the past few days. It was when she was researching the history of the Grey firm that Santana realized she had absolutely no idea about advertising, seeing the articles that chronicled the companies top notch work and high end customers making her panic. Her resume had shown she had no experience in the field but she had tried to make up for that by beefing up her skills section, trying to, and apparently succeeding in, selling herself to the prestigious company. What'd they had seen in her Santana wasn't sure, but she had spent the following days Google searching any and everything she could about the wonderful world of advertising. She wanted, needed, the position more than anything, her future in New York now on the line.

Santana made her way down to the subway and pushed through the crowd of people hustling for work, stepping into the crammed compartment as she squeezed herself between a plump woman with a teacher's badge and a lanky older man who wheezed into a handkerchief. The commute was about 15 minutes total but seemed to drag on forever, what little space Santana gained from exiting passengers quickly filled again by boarding businessman.

She finally reached her stop and eased her way out, adjusting her blouse before heading up the stairs and emerging into sunlight. The building, for Grey Advertising, was on her left, Santana fiddling with her outfit again nervously as she approached the grand glass doors.

Upon opening them, she was met with a rush of cool air, feeling goose bumps raise on her legs and wondering why she even bothered to shave them. She walked through the entry hall, beige marble and stone surrounding her, making her way to the elevator and up to next floor where the perky, blonde secretary had sat the last time she'd come by. This time the secretary was a brunette and she wasn't nearly as happy to see Santana, meeting Santana's greeting with a tight and short smile before asking her what she needed.

"I'm here for an interview about one of the open internship positions you have," Santana explained, clutching her folder of recommendations and references in her hand.

"The open internship positions?" the secretary named Brooke, according to her name plaque, asked as she resumed her typing on her computer.

"Yeah-yes, yes. I came in about a week ago and applied. I got a call back from a Mindy who said I was selected for an interview for one of the positions," Santana elaborated.

"We don't have any positions for that internship," Brooke informed her flatly, not bothering to tear her eyes off of her computer screen as she typed.

"I'm sorry?" Santana asked, her stomach sinking as she leaned against the desk.

"We don't have any positions for that internship," Brooke repeated quickly in the same monotone voice, ignoring Santana's sputters as she worked. "We filled those a few days ago."

"But-that's impossible," Santana insisted, pushing her curled hair back as she shook her head. "I-I applied. I got called, you called me-"

"I did no such thing," Brooke snapped as she finally turned to meet Santana's eyes.

"I mean you as in this company. I told you, Mindy-"

"Mindy got fired a few days ago for her lackluster performance at her secretarial duties. And your appearance here further proves why." Santana looked at Brooke as she waited for her to continue, the brunette staring through her before taking the hint and rolling her eyes. "I, on behalf of Grey's extend to you our sincerest apologies, and hope that you will apply with us again in the spring." Santana listened to the secretary deliver the robotic and standard apology the company had created for cases like hers and felt her eyes begin to sting, her hands sliding off of the desk as she swallowed her anger.

The first thought that came to Santana was "it's not fair", wanting to laugh at herself for how childish the notion that they owed her an interview was. Somewhere in the deepest pit of her stomach Santana had just known something would go wrong, the monster of an idea chewing on her nerves. She'd known and she was right, because here it was, out in the open for her to see, the glint of the dream she'd almost touched now turning into a nightmare of black smoke as it drifted away.

She thought briefly about turning away and running back to her apartment, shoving her shit in a suitcase and calling it quits. That was, until she saw her reflection in the decorative mirror hanging on the wall across the hall, Santana's limp curls and red eyes catching her off guard. This was not the girl, the woman, that Santana was, taking in the puddling mascara clotting her eyelashes and instantly running her knuckle under her eye. She wasn't the woman who took no for an answer, who let people tell her what she would and wouldn't do with her life. Santana Lopez didn't wait for things to happen to her, she made them happen for her. She'd was tired of feeling like some damsel who needed to be saved, always caught in the undertow and never able to catch her breath. She'd promised herself she was gonna turn things around and goddamnit she was determined to do it, her courage finding her again as she spoke up.

"I'd like to speak to whoever is in charge," she said firmly as she pushed herself to stand taller, the secretary sighing as she flipped through a file.

"Appointments only."

"Are you kidding me?" Santana scoffed, her voice raising as her temper flared. "I have an appointment, it's at 9!"

"No, what you had was an error, one that I've already apologized for," Brooke fought back, now losing her own patience as well as she slammed the file in her hands down.

"And while I appreciated that, really, _so_ heartfelt," Santana went on, steamrolling Brooke's objection as she continued. "I would like to speak to the person who's in charge, discuss the matter-the mistake-with them. After everything that's happened, it's the least you could do."

"Again, no one see's Ms. Pratt without an appointment."

"And again, I don't care!" Santana shot back, finding her footing again as she remained firm in her argument.

"Ma'am, there's no need to raise your voice, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding-"

"Misunderstanding? Mis-are you freaking kidding me?" Santana shouted, her cheeks flushing red as she raised her hand to point. "Lo he tenido ! He terminado! ¿Quieres decirme que hay no-"

"Brooke, can you-" Santana halted mid-sentence as a woman entered the lobby from a door located behind the secretary's desk, stopping in her tracks as she noted Santana's raised hands and Brooke's terrified expression. "May I help you?"

Santana eyed the woman in front of her, older and taller, with tan skin and jet black hair that hung just past her shoulders. Her eyes were sharp, piercing almost, staring through Santana as she waited for a response. She seemed the kind of woman who didn't like to wait for anything, much less bumbling 20 something's, Santana finally recognizing her from the photos she'd seen online and realizing she was one of the head partners at the company. Her mouth went dry as her tongue hit against the back of her teeth, trying to find her voice again only to be cut off by Brooke.

"Ms. Pratt, good morning! No, its fine, this visitor was just leaving-"

"I was not," snapped Santana, Brooke's irritating voice helping her find what she wanted to say as she lowering her pointed finger and voice before moving around the desk. "I was in the process of explaining to your extremely unprofessional, and might I add rude, secretary that I applied for a place in the internship program the company has."

"Uh huh," Ms. Pratt listened, folding her arms across her black dress as she placed one end of her red horn rimmed glasses between her teeth.

"And I was called a few days ago-"

"By Mindy."

"Yes, by Mindy, thanks a lot Brooke," Santana snapped, shooting the secretary a dark look before continuing her story. "And told that I'd been selected for an interview about possibly filling one of the spots in said internship."

"Mhmm," Ms. Pratt nodded, her eyes narrowing on Santana as she tapped her red heeled foot.

"Well, I get here today, and this," Santana spat as she motioned to the rigid secretary behind the desk. "Tells me that I'm wrong, that there aren't any positions to be filled because they're all filled. And I told her that can't be, because surely a company as prestigious as this one wouldn't screw something that simple up so royally."

At the last statement Ms. Pratt, who had stopped tapping her foot, removed her glasses from her mouth and tilted her head to the side, gazing at Santana with a look of what Santana hoped was wonder but was probably shock at being criticized.

"That's a predicament," she finally said, walking towards both girls as she rested her glasses on her nose. "Name?"

"Uh-Santana," Santana fumbled, Ms. Pratt motioning to hold the folder in Santana's hand as she eyed her over her glasses.

"Santana. Where are you from Ms.…Lopez?" she asked, flipping open the folder and finding Santana's full name on her resume.

"New Jersey."

"Ah, the Garden State," Ms. Pratt said lowly, flicking through the papers lazily as she eyed Santana's transcripts and references.

Santana felt her stomach flip again, wondering if the woman in front of her was looking through her paperwork to hire her, or just wanted a background on the girl she was about to have thrown out, biting her lip as Ms. Pratt began reading out loud.

"Studied at Thomas Edison? Never heard of it," she said quickly, the one streak of grey hair she had falling into her eyes. "Bounced around from place to place when it comes to work…now a waitress at Dinah's Diner." The way her voice read off Santana's resume made her feel small, Santana suddenly wondering why she'd ever bothered to apply. She had no experience in the advertising industry, no clue about the work, process, or professional etiquette, clearly, wrapping her arms around her waist as the older woman looked over at her.

"Well, not much of a resume," she dismissed, closing the file as she turned to look at Santana. "You lack experience in the field. The degree's a start, the skills are decent, but your prior work experience and references are irrelevant."

"Irrelevant?" Santana repeated, meeting Ms. Pratt's eyes as she laughed. "You think it's all irrelevant?" Santana's laugh grew louder, holding her hands up as she excused herself.

"Something you find funny?" Ms. Pratt asked, resting her elbow on the secretary's desk as Santana nodded.

"Yeah, me thinking I'd want to work for someone like you." She shook her head as she brushed her cheeks, realizing that the entire appointment was a dead end and that nothing except judgment that she didn't need was going to come from standing in front of the two women anymore.

"Someone like me?" Ms. Pratt asked with a raised brow. "Care to elaborate?"

"Someone like you, a snob, someone who looks down on me for who I am or what I come from. You think you've got me summed up from a few summer jobs but you don't have any idea about me, or work experience or what's relevant, or else you'd know that the hardest working person you could ever want to find is standing right in front of you." Both of Ms. Pratt's eyebrows raised as she leaned forward, Santana reaching down for the purse she'd dropped as she continued.

"I'm smart, maybe not the kind of smart it takes to sit around at one of your boujie coffee shops and discuss pretentious philosophers whose work you've never actually read, but I'm intelligent. I've got real world skills and street smarts that yeah, I did gain from that diner you look down on. I work hard, I'm determined. I busted my ass to get myself through college and to New York all on my own without needing any handouts or help, and I pick myself up when shit gets hard." Santana slung her purse over her arm, adjusting her blouse as she pushed her hair back.

"I'm great at relations, I can charm the pants off of just about anyone. I once convinced a diabetic and two-time stroke victim to enter the burger eating contest at work. Deadly? Sure. Committed? You bet your ass. And you know what else I can do pretty damn well? Read people, and from what I see in front of me it's obvious that I wasn't built to work for a company like this, for people who consume greedily from people with jobs like mine and then judge us for providing it. My job and experiences may not be glamorous or live up to your over-hyped standards but at least it's honest, real work." Santana turned from the two women and walked towards the elevator, smashing her palm into the button as she watched the floor numbers light up.

"Ms. Lopez-"

"Please, save it," Santana snapped, the elevator two floors away as she watched the numbers light up. "I don't need to hear you condescend me. This is fine, actually, because now I can work for a company with integrity, who doesn't screw up the simplest tasks, who won't look down on me. You can go on with your little internship and hire some snot nosed brat who kisses your ass, good luck, but they won't have the guts or dedication that I do. This is your loss, not mine." With that, Santana spun back around and entered the elevator, Santana catching Brooke's horrified face and Ms. Pratt's smirk before the doors closed.

She held her breath unknowingly until she reached the subway, Santana exhaling as she stepped off the stairs and gasped for air. She couldn't believe she'd just gone off on one of the heads of a huge company, Santana recalling blurs of the conversation and feeling a surprising swell of pride spread throughout her chest instead of dread.

That moment had been exactly what'd she needed to give her a good kick in the ass, as her father said, Santana laughing to herself as she saw Brooke's terrified face fill her thoughts again. She knew who she was and she didn't have any reason to be ashamed of that, or what she did and where she was from, Santana knowing she deserved to work somewhere that would respect that. She rested her head against one of the cold rails in her compartment as she steadied her breathing, her heart still racing from the moment. She knew that later on, after she thought about it for a while, she'd probably panic and question what'd she'd done but for now she would enjoy her stand, smiling to herself as she rode the subway back home.

* * *

><p>The day had grown surprisingly windy, Santana wrapping her arms around herself as she walked along the sidewalk to Quinn's bakery. She'd spent the time until Quinn's lunch hour window shopping and taking in the sights, slipping her heels off and holding them in her hands as walked along the shaded pavement. She reached Curly Sue's and opened the door, the smell of cinnamon and coffee filling her nostrils as she entered.<p>

"Welcome to-oh hi Santana!" Iris, Quinn's co-worker, cheered as the brunette walked in, the two having built a nice little friendship as Santana's visit's to the bakery increased. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm actually really good," Santana answered as she slipped her heels back on, Quinn walking out from the kitchen as she heard Iris' greeting.

"Hey!" she smiled, wiping her hands on her apron as she rounded the counter. "Did everything go ok?"

"It…didn't play out as I expected, but it was good. I needed it." Quinn frowned as she studied Santana's face, the brunette waving her over to the door as she prepared to explain.

"Iris, I'm out for lunch!" Quinn called behind her, following Santana as they exited the bakery.

"You hungry for anything in particular?" Santana asked, squinting in the sunlight as she checked the street. "'Cause I could totally go for one of those hot dogs."

"That works, as long as you tell me what happened," Quinn responded, Santana looking over to see the blonde with her hands on her hips.

"Deal," she nodded, reaching out for Quinn's hand and guiding them across the street. They made their purchases and sat down on the curb, Quinn doing her best to wait patiently as Santana ate.

"So?" she finally prodded, Santana chuckling as the other girl nudged her with her knee. "What happened? I've been anxious all morning and now you show up all mysterious."

"Mysterious is my game, its how I plan on keeping you interested," Santana winked, Quinn tilting her head before tossing a corner of her bun at the brunette who squealed in response.

"Be serious!" Quinn whined, Santana nodding as she tried to swallow her current mouthful. "Wait, are you trying to throw me off or something? Did you get the internship and this is you messing with me?"

"No, not exactly," Santana finally answered, running her tongue along her teeth as she prepared to answer. "I didn't get the position."

"What? Why?" Quinn asked in a high pitched tone, growing serious as she listened to Santana retell her tale of misunderstanding and misfortune.

"…and then I left them standing there, the broad still holding my resume and recommendations. Thank God I made copies, right?"

"That's bullshit," Quinn snapped, her reply and tone surprising Santana.

"Blondie, the b word? Its midday, you need to cool yourself."

"Well it is," Quinn sighed, rubbing Santana's knee comfortingly. "I mean you get penalized for something that's on them, which is the epitome of unprofessionalism."

"It's ok though, the whole thing was like this moment for me," Santana said as she met Quinn's eyes. "It was, in a weird way, what I needed."

"How so?" Quinn asked curiously, strands of blonde hair that had fallen from her braid blowing in her face.

"Because it was kind of like this moment of clarity. I've been kind of stuck ever since I got here, sort of afraid to really do anything or put myself out there because if I did I'd mess up everything I worked for. I let Brittany trample me, Puck use me, people at these different job interviews make me feel inferior, and I've had enough. It's been hard to kind of find myself again with everything that's changed, but I have now and I don't have to settle or be scared anymore." A smile stretched across Quinn's face as she listened, linking her arms with Santana's before resting her chin on Santana's shoulder.

"Then good for you. They don't deserve you, and you should wait for the employer who's gonna treat you with the respect you deserve," Quinn supported. "And hey, if all else fails, the bakery is looking for a maintenance worker. You'd get your own bucket," Quinn sang, Santana smiling as Quinn poked her side.

"You just want me around to ogle me all day Blondie, don't lie."

"Mmm guilty. But really though, there's a ton of other companies that have opportunities with twice the professionalism and none of the bull crap."

"Oh now you're back to bull crap?" Santana joked, moving to stand up as she stretched out her legs.

"I try to keep it PG, at least until dark," Quinn answered casually, moving to join Santana as they stood on the curb.

"Oh really?" Santana asked as she raised her brow. "And what happens after nightfall?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Quinn teased, biting her lip and causing Santana's stomach to tingle.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you know that right?" Santana said lowly, Quinn giggling as her smile grew. "I mean this whole innocent baker slash sex kitten routine is a killer."

"I'm sorry, maybe I can make it up to you tonight?" Quinn playfully pouted, reaching out for Santana's hands and pulling her close. Santana stared into Quinn's hazel eyes as she watched the blonde bat them expertly, fighting off an urge to rough her up then and there on the curb as she exhaled.

Quinn's intimacy had continued to confuse Santana as they'd grown closer, the blonde enticing her relentlessly one moment and then getting bashful mid kiss the next. It wasn't like Santana wanted sex right then, right now, club Quinn and keep her cave man style, she herself still getting acquainted with her own sensuality after keeping it on the down low for the past few months. She respected Quinn's right to say no and always obliged, but she couldn't help but wonder if maybe there was something deeper happening in that beautiful blonde's brain, holding on for the ride as she continued to learn about her romantic interest.

"Blondie, there are people around, don't play with me woman," Santana gritted out, Quinn taking the threat for ammo as she leaned in closer.

"Fine, I'll just save it for later," she said sweetly, pressing her body against Santana's as her nose brushed the brunette's. Santana tilted her head and watched for Quinn's approval, the blonde's eyelids growing heavy as she moved her mouth to meet Santana's.

There was something about the way Santana felt when she was kissing Quinn that had made her addicted, the feeling of hunger yet ease that came driving Santana mad. She went back and forth between wanting to sling Quinn onto the nearest surface and savagely tear into her and daydreaming about simply lying next to Quinn and running her fingers through her hair, a vision of them in an awful Color Me Bad video with silk sheets and curtains blowing in the wind causing Santana to snort into Quinn's mouth.

Quinn pulled away quickly as she brought her hand to her mouth, flashing Santana a look of puzzlement and amusement as the brunette choked.

"What was that?" Quinn asked, her eyes wide as she opened her mouth in confusion.

"I'm sorry I-I got lost in my head," Santana covered, Quinn watching her questionably for another moment before grabbing her hand.

"Jesus, come on and walk me back, and try not to get lost along the way?" Quinn teased as Santana rolled her eyes.

"Bite me Blondie."

"Maybe later crazy."

* * *

><p>Santana reached the floor of her apartment and sifted through her keys, already able to hear the ACDC blasting through the wall and knowing Puck was home. She unlocked her door and pushed it open, walking in to her apartment to find Puck head banging over the stove.

"Hey, killer, down a notch," she called out, Puck not hearing her and continuing to cook his grilled cheese as he sang along. "Puck. Puck!" Santana, now irritated, headed towards the boom box he had moved from the fireplace and sat on the counter beside him, Puck only aware of her presence when she brushed up beside him to turn the music off.

"Hey-oh hey," he said with a head nod, Santana forcing a smile as she walked away to hang up her purse. "You're home early."

"Yeah, took the day off," she explained, walking back over as Puck flashed her a confused face. "Had an interview."

"Cool, where at?" he asked casually, sliding his burnt grilled cheese onto a Styrofoam plate and sending black pieces of bread onto the counter.

"This advertising company, it didn't really go as expected," Santana dismissed, already tired of the story as she moved to sit on one of the flimsy bar stools.

"Bummer," Puck mumbled through a mouthful of food, Santana annoyed at his dismissiveness as she shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess. So how's the job at the club going?" she inquired.

"It's cool," he brushed off, taking his plate into the living room as he left behind a Hansel and Gretel trail of burnt breadcrumbs. Santana almost moved to stand and pick the mess up before stopping herself, scoffing as she realized she didn't need to pick up after a grown man.

"Good. The rents due on the 14th, so do you wanna give me your half in cash or what?" At the question Puck froze, his mouth halting mid chew as he looked down at his plate. "Puck?"

"I might be a little short," he mumbled through his food, Santana hearing his words but not believing him.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked again, standing from her seat as she walked forward. "You might be a little short?"

"What? It's not a big deal," Puck snapped, shifting his demeanor back to carelessness as he shrugged it off. "Just cover for me this month and I'll hit you back the next." Anger pounded in Santana's chest as she felt her skin warm, marching in front of her roommate and making direct eye contact as she pointed.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," she spat, Puck glowering from his spot on the sofa as Santana scoffed. "You-and you know, I shouldn't be surprised, but here I am. I actually thought that you meant the whole "I'm gonna be a better roommate" thing, but what a crock of shit that was. You put on a hell of a show though, I'll give you that."

"Fuck you, I have been a better roommate," Puck fired back bitterly. "You just haven't been around to see."

"Don't snap at me for getting a life, all you did is harp on me to 'go out and meet people'. Now I have and you're pissed?" Santana pointed out, Puck standing as he grabbed his empty plate and headed to the kitchen.

"I didn't say that," Puck defended, Santana rolling her eyes as she ignored his rebuttal.

"And please, what's to see? What exactly am I missing when I'm not here?" Santana asked loudly with a laugh, waving her hands around the living room as she motioned to the mess. "You don't pick up after yourself or clean anything, God forbid you take the trash out or check the mail. And now you aren't even paying rent! So which part of all this is you being a better roommate?" Puck tossed his plate before moving to stand in front of the sink, resting his hands on the edge and gripping the cool metal as he sighed.

"I don't wanna do this with you right now, ok?"

"You're never wanna do this," Santana yelled, on a roll as she let all her pent up frustrations come roaring out. "You never wanna have any conversation that involves you owning up to your actions. Or lack thereof."

"Oh please, save it," Puck dismissed, moving around the counter as he walked towards Santana. "You think 'cause you got some friends now and have a life you're better than me? I'm the only person who was even here for you when we first got here, who put up with all your whining and anxious crap. Hell I'm the only person who's been here for you, with all your Brittany breakup bullshit."

"Oh my God," Santana laughed, placing a hand on her stomach as she watched Puck's face contort. "You pathetic bastard. You're gonna come for me about Brittany? About having to be there for me? What, was it some big strain? Having to actually be a fucking friend to me during that time?" Puck didn't answer as he watched Santana run her hands through her hair, shaking her head before crossing her arms. "That's what this is, isn't it?"

"What?" Puck asked with a snarl.

"That I don't need you anymore," Santana answered, Puck rolling his eyes as he walked away. "No, it is, isn't it? I don't need you anymore. I don't need you to cheer me up or listen to me cry. I did there for a while and I was grateful, and it's why I let you walk all over me, because I thought I owed you something but I don't. Because that's being a fucking friend, Puck, that's what they do, and you totally took advantage of that."

"I did not," Puck tried to protest, Santana glaring at him as she scoffed.

"You did, you absolutely did. But now I'm standing up for myself, now I'm putting myself back together and I'm making things happen for myself, I'm making myself happy, and you don't get to come in and be my big hero."

"Fuck off," Puck shot back lamely, unsure of what to do with himself as he stood by their counter.

"You got to have all the glory, swooping in and saving me from myself, what a boost that must have been for you. Poor, miserable Santana. Heartbroken, sappy Santana. But I'm not that girl anymore and you can't stand it. You can't stand that I don't need you to fix me." Puck could only shake his head as he gritted his teeth, smacking his hand on the counter before turning for the door.

"That's right, run away from confrontation," Santana called, Puck shoving his feet into his shoes before yanking his keys off the hook.

"Says the girl who fled from home because she was scared of some blonde bitch who broke her heart," he hissed, the fact no long hurting Santana as she shrugged it off with a smile.

"You're right, I did and I was. But I'm not anymore." Puck flared his nostrils before slamming the door behind him, Santana left standing in the now eerily quiet apartment.

In prior arguments with Puck, Santana was always left with a sick feeling in her gut, always anxious until they made amends. That feeling wasn't present as she stared around her apartment and rubbed her stomach, instead proud that she'd finally stood up for herself.

She debated about what they were gonna do now with Puck short on rent, trying to calculate how much overtime she'd have to pull when a sharp knock rang out, Santana furrowing her brow. She knew Puck wouldn't be coming back, not as hot as he'd left, and that Quinn wasn't even close to getting off work, walking to the door and opening it to find a surprise.

"Listen kid, if you're gonna work for me, we've gotta get you in an apartment with an elevator," Ms. Pratt said flatly, tapping her heel against the concrete floor as Santana stared in shock.

"Uh, what-why are you here?" Santana finally got out, Ms. Pratt raising a brow as she pursed her lips.

"Not really my usual greeting, but we can work on it," she said as she pushed past Santana, walking into the apartment as her heels clicked against the hardwood.

Santana watched as the older woman eyed the wrecked kitchen and cluttered living room, replaying the other woman's words about work and wondering what the hell she'd meant. Ms. Pratt on the other hand was busy surveying the space, her head turning up as she noted the dust on their ceiling. Santana momentarily felt embarrassed and then pushed the feeling away, realizing that this was her apartment and that she didn't need to hide anything.

"I used to have brickwork in my old apartment," Ms. Pratt finally said as she motioned to Santana's living room wall. "Real bitch to get a nail through."

"Yeah," Santana agreed slowly, not sure what she was supposed to say as they stood together. "I'm sorry, but how did you find me? And why did you find me?"

"Well, you forgot this," Ms. Pratt answered as she pulled Santana's resume folder out of her purse, tossing it towards the younger girl as she sighed. "So I glimpsed the address and here I am. Two birds, one stone."

"Thanks," Santana half smiled as she flicked the folder with her thumb, Ms. Pratt nodding as the brunette asked her next question. "So next bird; you said something about me working for you?" Ms. Pratt stared at Santana without an expression as Santana fumbled, letting her finishing tripping on her words as she waited to reply. "I mean I'm pretty sure after our meeting today that you shut me down."

"I didn't shut you down, Ms. Lopez. As I recall it, it was me who was 'shut down' and received the verbal lashing," Ms. Pratt corrected.

"Fair enough," Santana agreed. "But you did say there weren't any more openings for the internship. So I don't understand how I could work for you, or why you'd even want me to after your…verbal lashing."

"Ms. Lopez, do you know how long I've been in this business?" she asked, Santana shaking her head as Ms. Pratt eyed her. "31 years. I started out as a measly assistant, worked my way up the corporate ladder, had my moments of despair, lashed out at a few executives myself, and was finally given a place as a partner with my own division and team. And do you know how many people have yelled at me since I've been in that position?" Again, Santana shook her head as Ms. Pratt crossed her arms. "None. That was, until today." Santana remained silent, unsure of what she was supposed to say to a statement like that.

"You can probably assume I'm not the kind of woman who makes house calls, and I don't, but I like you Ms. Lopez. You've got a fire in you I haven't seen, hell that I haven't even felt myself in years," Ms. Pratt elaborated, Santana caught by surprise once more as she listened to the older woman compliment her. "You're passionate and aggressive, opinionated and daring. You speak your mind, you give it your all, but you've got integrity, you don't take shit. Do you know how many suckers I have clamoring to kiss my ass and feed me bullshit on the daily? Hourly? Dozens. But not you, you're real, honest, and I want that, I need that for my company."

"I-I mean I don't know what to say," Santana exhaled.

"Say yes," Ms. Pratt said casually, as if the answer was right in front of her face.

"But I mean-you basically belittled me in front of that Brooke-"

"Oh Brooke's a bitch, no one likes Brooke," Ms. Pratt dismissed, Santana agreeing with a brow raise. "And I didn't belittle you, Ms. Lopez, I told you the truth."

"About?"

"About where you stand in this business. You've got a degree, that's a plus, no one will even look at you without it. Not that it matters, it's a status symbol. And your work experience, I said it's irrelevant and it is."

"I-"

"I know you disagree," Ms. Pratt cut her off, holding her perfectly manicured hand up as Santana fell silent. "I know you've met great people and learned all about having a good work ethic from these places, I'm not discrediting that aspect. I am saying though that there isn't a single company who will look at your past work experiences and deem you qualified."

"Then why do you?" Santana asked, crossing her arms as she leaned against the side of the couch. "I mean the way you sounded earlier it was like I was inferior."

"On the contrary, I find you fascinating Ms. Lopez. Storming into the building and not taking no for an answer. I've seen you in action," Ms. Pratt smiled. "I know what you're made of, and I know that, given the right opportunities and experiences you could be a hell of an asset." Santana thought over her words, still baffled at what was happening. "And if I made you feel inferior or belittled then I do apologize for that. It was not my intention." Santana took the apology to heart, figuring if she wasn't the kind of woman who made house calls then she certainly wasn't the kind of woman who apologized.

"If there's no internship position then what would I be doing?" she inquired, shifting the focus from her back to the position.

"Well, it'd be an assistant's job," Ms. Pratt explained, stepping forward as she spoke. "You'd work personally for me and no one else."

"Oh, right, so it'd be an upgrade from making the coffee to just fetching it? You came all the way over here and thought up that whole spiel and that's your best pitch?" Santana scoffed.

"Well, I don't drink coffee Ms. Lopez," Ms. Pratt played off, Santana wondering how far of a line she could walk before the other woman would storm out. "And I don't need you to run errands for me, that's what my boyfriend is for." At that Santana smiled, Ms. Pratt shrugging as she continued on.

"What you would do is communicate and meet with clients for me, arrange and attend meetings with me, assist on projects and presentations with me and them, and through this you'll earn a first-hand look at what this industry is about, gain actual experience and build relationships with people who could go on to be your very own clients someday. So, what do you say?" Santana had gone silent as she listened to the offer, realizing now that she was serious. The whole thing sounded amazing, Santana knowing an opportunity like this wouldn't just show up at her door again.

"What does it pay?" Santana dared, seeing as money just became an even bigger concern, Ms. Pratt not seeming offended at the question as she answered.

"For the work you'll be doing, the hours you'll put in, plus your degree…I'll start you at $25 on the hour and see where we go." Santana almost choked when she heard the figure, barely making that with tips in a few hours at the diner. "But I'll need you from 6 to 6. Some nights may run later, and I need you to be able to accommodate that." Santana steadied herself as she nodded, pretending to mull it over as she ran her fingers along the fabric of the couch.

"No catch? You'd really want to hire me?"

"No catch, I really want to hire you," Ms. Pratt confirmed, Santana watching her fingers as she thought. "Why don't I give you the weekend to think, hm? And if you're in, I'll see you Monday at the same place you left. If not, I wish you well on your endeavors in the future." With that she gave Santana a nod, walking past the brunette as she headed for the door. "Good day, Ms. Lopez."

The door closed and Santana waited until the clicking of heels could be heard no more, squealing to herself as she made sense of what just happened. Though she'd grown to appreciate it that day, the assistants position would mean no more diner, no more uniform two sizes too big, no more grease and rude customers. She would be finally taking a step up in her professional life, working at a job she could truly love.

She headed to her purse and searched for her cell, wanting to call her mother and Quinn to share the good news. She finally found the phone and saw she had a missed call, her stomach dropping when she read the screen: _Missed Call - Brittany_.


End file.
